The Stainless Steel Rat Wants You

by Harry Harrison

  "We die." The boyish voices chanted in expressionless harmony.

  "If you are afraid?"

  "We die."

  "If you allow emotion. .

  I switched off the program, having the feeling that I had heard more than enough for the moment. It gave pause for thought. For all of the years that I had been pursuing and battling with the gray men I had never bothered to stop and think why they were what they were. I had just taken their nastiness for granted. The few words I had overheard told me that their brutality and intransience was no accident. Abandoned, that's what the teacher had said. For reasons lost in the depths of time a colony must have been established on this planet. For ore or minerals of some kind, possibly. It was so inhospitable, so far from the nearest settled worlds, that there had to have been a good reason to come here, to work to establish a settlement. Then the people here had been abandoned. Either for local reasons, or during the bad years of the Breakdown. Undoubtedly the colony had never been meant to be self-sustaining. But, once on its own, it had to be. The majority must have died; a handful lived. Lived--if it can be called that--by abandoning all human graces and emotions, lived by devoting their lives simply to the battle for existence. They had fought this implacably brutal planet and had won.

  But they had lost a good deal of their humanity in doing this. They had become machines for survival and bad brutalized themselves emotionally, crippled themselves. And passed on this disability as a strength to the future generations. Moral Philosophy. But moral only when it related to surviving on this savage planet. Most unmoral when it came to subjugating other people. Yet there was a horrible kind of correctness to it--at least from their point of view. The rest of mankind was weak and filled with unneeded emotions, smiling and frowning, wasting energy on frivolities These people not only thought they were better--their training forced them to believe that they were better. That and the inculcated generations of hatred of the others who had abandoned them here made them into the perfect galaxy conquerors. On their terms they were helping all the planets they conquered. The weak should die; that was right. The survivors would be led down the path of righteousness to a better life.

  Being few in number they could not conquer directly but must work through others. They had engineered and managed the interplanetary invasions of the Cliaand. Invasions that had been succeeding until the Special Corps had busted things up. A busting-up that I had organized. No wonder they had been eager to get their cold little hands on me.

  And this was the training ground. The school that made sure that every little Kekkonshiki kid was turned into an emotionless copy of his elders. No fun here. This school for survival that perverted every natural tendency of youth fascinated me. I was warm now, and safe enough for the moment, and the more I learned about this place the better chances I would have to make some plan to do something. Other than lurk in dark corridors. I went on to the next classroom. A workshop, applied science or engineering. Bigger boys here working on apparatus of some kind.

  Some kind. That kind! I clutched the metal ring about my neck while I looked on, as hypnotized and paralyzed as a bird by a snake.

  They were working on the little metal boxes with push buttons. Boxes with cables that ran to collars like the one I was wearing. Scientific torture machines. I moved my hand slowly and switched on the speaker.

  ". . . the difference is in application, not in theory. You assemble and test these synaptic generators in order to familiarize yourself with the circuitry. Then, when you go on to axion feeds you will have a working knowledge of the steps involved. Now, turn to the diagram on page thirty. . ."

  Axion feeds. That was something I would have to learn more about. It was only a guess--but it seemed a sound one--that this gadget was the one I had never seen. But had experienced. The brain-stomper that had generated all my horrible memories. Memories of things that had never happened, never existed outside my brain. But which were none the better for that. It was all very revealing.

  All very stupid of me. Standing there like a sadistic voyeur and not thinking of my flanks. Because of the teacher's voice muttering away and I did not hear the footsteps approaching, did not know the other man was there until he turned the corner and almost walked right into me.

  THIRTEEN

  Action is superior to thought in a situation like this and I hurled myself at him, hands grasping for his throat. Silence first then quickly unconscious. He did not move but he did speak.

  "Welcome to Yurusareta School. James diGriz. I was hoping you would find your way here--"

  His words shut off as my thumbs closed down on his windpipe. He made no move to resist nor did his expression change in the slightest as he looked me calmly in the eyes. His skin was loose and wrinkled and I realized suddenly that he was very, very old.

  Although I am well equipped by training and circumstance to fight, and even kill, in self-defense, I am not really very good at throttling old grandfathers to death while they are quietly watching me. My fingers loosened of their own accord. I matched the man stare for stare and snarled in my most nasty manner.

  "Shout for help and you are dead in an instant."

  "That is the last thing I wish to do. My name is Hanasu and I have been looking forward to meeting you ever since you escaped. I have done my best to lead you here."

  "Would you mind explaining that?" I let my hands fall, though I was still alert for trouble.

  "Of course. As soon as I heard the radio report I tried to put myself in your place. If you went south or east you would end up among the buildings of the city where you would be quickly found. If you did not do this your course would take you west in the direction of this school. Of course if you headed north you would come to the sea very quickly and would then still have to go west. Operating on this theory I changed today's schedules and decided that all of the boys needed more exercise. They are all hating me now because they missed hours of classroom study that will have to be made up tonight. But they all did a number of kilometers on skis. Their course, not by chance, took them first south then west, to return here in a large loop along the shore. This was designed so that if you did see any of them you would follow them here. Is that what you did?"

  There was no point in lying. "Yes. Now what do you plan to do?"

  "Do? Why, talk to you of course. You were not seen entering the building?"

  "No. Is

  "Better than I expected. I was sure I would have to axionfeed some people. You are very ingenious, I should have remembered that. Now, the other end of this observation gallery leads to my office. Shall we go there?"

  "Why? You're going to turn me in?"

  "No. I want to talk to you."

  "I don't believe you."

  "Naturally, you have no reason to. But you have little choice. Since you did not kill me at once I doubt if you will do it now. Follow me."

  At that Hanasu turned and walked away. There was little else I could do except trot after him. And stay close. Maybe I couldn't chop him down in the prime of his senile life, but I could certainly grab him and wrap him like a package if he tried to call in any alarms.

  The gallery wound up and down by many other classes, and I had tantalizing glimpses of what they were doing. But no chance to stop. I was right behind him when he climbed a short flight of steps and reached for the door handle. I put my hand out and stopped him.

  "What's in here?" I asked.

  "My office, as I said."

  "Is anyone in there?"

  "I doubt it. They have no permission to enter when I am not there. But I can look--"

  "I think I would prefer to do that myself."

  Which I did, and he was right. I felt very much like a lizard as I searched the room trying to keep one eye on him and the other on the fixtures, both at the same time. A narrow window opening out onto blackness, shelves of books, a large desk, files, a few chairs. I waved him to the one furthest from the desk--where any buttons or alarms would not be located. He went quietly, si
tting and folding his hands while I prowled a bit more. There was a jug of water and a glass on the sideboard and I suddenly realized how thirsty I was. I poured and glugged and managed to finish all of it. Then I dropped into the chair behind his desk, put my feet up on it.

  "And you really want to help me?" I asked, in my most sceptical tone of voice.

  "Yes, I do."

  "For openers you might show me how to take this collar off my neck."

  "Of course. You'll find a key in the right hand drawer of the desk. The keyhole is just below the cable connection on the collar."

  It took a bit of fumbling, but the collar finally snapped open and I threw it into the corner. "Great. A wonderful feeling." I looked around. "A nice office. Do you run this place?"

  "I am the headmaster, yes. I was exiled here as punishment. They would have killed me, but they did not dare."

  "I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about. Would you care to explain?"

  "Of course. The Committee of Ten rule this planet. I was on this committee for many years. I am an extremely good organizer. I originated and planned the entire Cliaand operation. When it was terminated, thanks to your efforts, I returned and became First of the Committee. That was when I attempted to alter our programs and they punished me for it. I have been at this school ever since. I cannot leave here nor can I change one word of the program which is fixed and immutable. It is a very safe prison."

  This was getting more and more interesting. "What changes did you try to make?"

  "Radical ones. I began to doubt all of our aims. I bad been exposed to other cultures, corrupted they said, as I began to question ours more and more. But as soon as I tried to put my new ideas into force I was apprehended, removed, sent here. There can be no new ideas on Kekkonshiki . . ."

  The door opened and a wheeled cart was pushed in by a small boy.

  "I have brought your dinner, Headmaster," he said, then saw me behind the desk. His expression did not alter in the slightest. "That is the prisoner who escaped."

  Only fatigue kept me in the chair; I had been through a lot this day and my mind was as tired as my body. What was I to do with this child?

  "You are correct, Yoru," Hanasu said. "Come in and watch him while I go for help-"

  I was on my feet when I beard that, ready to knock some heads together. But Hanasu did not leave the room. Instead he stepped behind Yoru and silently closed the door. Then he took a black metal device from a shelf and touched it lightly to the back of the boy's neck. The boy froze, eyes open, immobile.

  "There is no danger now," Hanasu said. "I will remove a few minutes of the lad's memory, that is all."

  My throat closed and I felt the disgust--mixed with hatred and, yes, fear--rising within me. "That thing in your hand. What is it"

  "The axion feed. You will have seen it many times, though of course you have no memory of that. It can remove memories and replace them with others. Now if you will step behind the door to the gallery the boy will enter again and leave."

  Did I have a choice? I don't know. Perhaps the sight of the brain-tramping machine along with my fatigue was making me simple. I did not question; I just obeyed. Though I did leave the door open a crack to watch. Hanasu made some adjustments on the machine and pressed it to the boy's neck again. Nothing appeared to happen. Then he opened the door and regained his seat. A few seconds later the boy moved, pushing the cart further into the room.

  "I have brought your dinner, Headmaster," he said.

  "Leave it and do not return tonight. I do not wish to be disturbed."

  "Yes, Headmaster." He turned and left and I emerged from my hiding place.

  "That machine--it's the one they used on me?" I asked.

  "Yes."

  "It's the foulest, most disgusting thing I have ever heard of."

  "It is just a machine," be said emotionlessly, then replaced it on the shelf. "I do not need food now and you will be hungry after your exposure. Help yourself."

  Too many things had been happening too quickly for me to think about my appetite. But now that he had mentioned it I realized that I was hungry enough to eat a cow, raw. I threw back the cover on the plate and there was a rush of saliva at the sight of the food. It was the same tasteless dried fish ration I had had on the spacer, but was the finest dinner imaginable at that moment. I shoveled and chomped and listened to Hanasu.

  "I am trying to understand your reasons for saying that the machine is disgusting. You mean the uses it is put to, don't you?" I nodded, my mouth too full to talk. "I can understand your reasoning. 'Mat is my trouble. I am very intelligent or I would not have been first in my classes and then first on the Committee. During the years I have given this much thought and have concluded that most of the people on this planet are both stupid and unimaginative. Intelligence and imagination are handicaps to basic survival in an environment as harsh as ours. We have selectively bred them out. Which means I am a sport, a mutant. These differences lay dormant during my early years. I believed everything I was taught and excelled in my studies. I did not question then because questioning is unknown here. Obedience is all. Now I question. We are not superior to all of the rest of mankind--just different. Our attempts to destroy or rule them all were wrong. Our liaison with the aliens to war on our own specie the biggest crime of all."

  "You're right," I said, swallowing the last bite regretfully. I could have started all over again. Hanasu went on as though he had not heard me.

  "When I discovered these facts I tried to change our aims. But it is impossible. I cannot even change one word of the training these children get--and I am in charge of the school."

  "I can change everything," I told him.

  "Of course," he said, turning to face me. Then his immobile face cracked, the comers of his mouth turned up. He smiled, ever so slightly--but it was still a smile. "Why do you think I wanted to get you here? You can do what I have labored my lifetime to accomplish. Save the people of this chill planet from themselves."

  "One message would do it. Just the location of this planet."

  "And then--your League would come and destroy us. It is tragic but inevitable."

  "No. Wouldn't harm a hair of your heads."

  "That is a jest and I do not like it! Do not mock me!" There was almost a trace of anger in his voice.

  "It's the truth. You just don't know how a civilized society will react. I admit that a lot of people, if they knew who you were, would relish dropping a planet buster onto you. But with luck the general public will never know. The League will just keep an eye on your people to see that they don't cause any more trouble. And offer you the usual aid and assistance."

  He was baffled. "I don't understand. They must kill us--"

  "Stop with the killing already. That's your trouble. Live or die. Kill or be killed. That philosophy belongs to a darker stage of mankind's development that we have hopefully left behind. We may not have the best of all possible ethical systems or civilizations, but we at least have one that forbears violence as an institution. Why do you think your alien friends are doing so well? We no longer have armies or fleets to fight wars. We no longer have wars. Until people like yours come along and try to turn the clock back twenty thousand years or so. There is no need for killing as a tool of government. Ever."

  "There must be the rule of law. If a man kills he be killed in return."

  "Nonsense. That does not bring the dead back to life. And the society doing the killing then becomes no more than a murderer itself. And I see your mouth open for the next argument. Capital punishment is no deterrent to others, that has been proven. Violence breeds violence, killing breeds killing."

  Hanasu paced back and forth the length of the room, trying to understand these--to him--alien concepts. I scraped the plate again and licked off the spoon. He sighed and dropped back into his chair.

  "These things you tell me--they are beyond understanding. I must study them, but that is not important now. What is important is that I have ma
de my mind up. I have been thinking about it for years and have decided. The Kekkonshiki plans must be stopped. There has been too much killing. It is only fit that it end by all of us being killed. You have told me this will not happen and I would like to believe you. But it does not matter. The message must be sent to your League."

  "How?"

  "You must tell me. Don't you think I would have contacted them well before this if I had the means?" "Yes, of course." Now I was pacing the floor. "No mail service to other planets, of course. No psimen here--or are there? Not that it's important. They wouldn't send this message. Radio?"

  "The nearest League base is 430 light years away."

  "Yes, well, we don't want to wait that long. I'll just have to find a way to get aboard one of the ships when they leave."

  "I think that will be next to impossible."

  "I'm sure of it. So what do you suggest. I know--you just asked me that same question. But there has to be a way. Maybe I had better sleep on it. Is there any place safe . . ."

  I was interrupted by a high warbling sound. My eyebrows shot up.

  "It is the communicator. An outside call. Stand against that wall where you will be out of range of the eye."

  He seated himself at the desk and switched on.

  "Hanasu," he said, face and voice frozen.

  "A squad will reach you in a few minutes. They will seat all exits from the school. The foreigner has been traced in your direction and may be hiding there. Transportation is on the way now with six more squads. The school will be searched and he will be found."