The Stainless Steel Rat Wants You

by Harry Harrison

  "I thought you might ask that. We're playing the law of averages. Most pilots use major navigation points most of the time. And most of these stars have a League station nearby. And most voyages make at least three downspace checks. One of the radio messages will have to be received."

  "Hopefully. But it is better than nothing. Suicide is still possible."

  "That's right. Always always look on the sunny side."

  "How will you affix it to the spacer?"

  "With an atomic welder." I held up my hand as he started to speak. "I know, no more funnies. That was a joke, chuckle-chuckle. I must find a way to get near one of the spacers unseen. It won't take more than a few minutes to do the job. Is the spacefield guarded?"

  "There is a chainlink fence around it as you must know, And some guards at the gate. That is all I remember."

  "Should be easy to get by that setup. Then I'll need your help with two things. I want to know when the next ship is leaving. And I'll need transportation to the spaceport."

  "The information will be easy to supply. The earlier bulletin announced that the Takai Cha is going at 0645 hours today. . ."

  "What time is it now?"

  Hanasu blinked farsightedly at his watch and finally made out the numbers. "O-three-one-one," he said.

  "Can you get transportation? Get me there in time?"

  He had to think about this for a while before reluctantly nodding. "Normally, no. I have no reason to take the car out. But tonight I could report that I am volunteering for the search. They will probably say yes."

  "We can only try."

  The ploy worked. Within ten minutes we were bouncing over the iron-hard snow in an electrically powered, skimounted, propeller driven bone-breaker of an unsprung vehicle. No luxuries here. The heater was nonexistent, as were cushions on the seats. These people carried the hairshirt business entirely too far. My newly built radioejector was fitted with a strap so I could sling it over my shoulder. All the tools I might need were in a bag beside it. I looked out at the snowflakes whipping through the beams of the headlight and tried to plan ahead.

  "How close can you get me to the fence?" I asked.

  "As close as you like. There are no roads or marked tracks as you can see. The radio direction finder is followed from point to point."

  "That's good news. Here is the plan. You drop me off at the fence and keep going. But mark the spot. Come back in exactly one hour. If you see any excitement or hear any alarms on the radio stay away."

  "That is good. There will be enough time then for me to get back to the school and take the poison."

  "Have it instead of breakfast, right. But don't do anything until you are sure they have me. There may be trouble, but they will not have an easy time grabbing hold of me."

  "You have skied before?"

  "I'm a champion."

  It was a piece of cake. Twice we saw the lights of other cars, but they kept their distance. There was a good deal of rushing about this night. Then we were among dark buildings, bouncing over the ruts and doing suicide slides around corners. Hanasu was a real cold-nerved hotrod driver. The fence appeared and we paralleled it. The lights of a gate were visible ahead, then suddenly blotted out by a swirl of snow.

  "I bail out here," I shouted. "Look at your watch and keep moving."

  I threw my gear out into the snow and dived after it. The car was moving even before I landed, the blast from the propeller enveloping me in a sudden blizzard. It was dark, cold, miserable--and perfect cover. I took a detector from the tool bag and cautiously approached the fence.

  There was absolutely nothing to it. I could have neutralized the simple alarm and cut my way through that fence with one eye closed, standing on one leg with my right hand behind my back. In fact, since I have always felt that a little bit of the old personal braggadocio goes no harm, I closed my eye, stood on one leg, grabbed the back of my neck with my hand--and did the job that way. Only when the links had been cut did I use both hands, holding the opening wide with one and pushing my oddments through with the other. Then it was the work of a moment to close the links with the molecular welder, put on the skis and slide off into the darkness. Behind me my tracks were already filling in. The first part of the job was done.

  There was no problem in finding the spacer. In the darkness of the spaceport the ship was lit up brighter than day. I slithered toward it, staying close to the darkened buildings until I was behind the last one and looking out across the pad.

  What a lovely sight. Lights burned brightly on towers, hissing when the snow blew against them. Men and vehicles scurried about servicing the tall spire of the ship. And there, prominent on the tailfin, was the name Takai Cha. This was the ship; it would be leaving soon just as planned.

  Only bow was I ever going to get close enough to fix my gadget into place?

  SIXTEEN

  That was a problem that obviously had but one solution. I was not going to get near the ship dressed as I was. But I could go there and work on the hull unremarked if I looked like one of the servicemen. So--I had to put the grab on one of the servicemen.

  It was easy enough to find a dark comer behind some bins to stow my gear. But the kidnapping proved a good deal harder. I prowled around the fringes of the lit area like a wolf around a campfire, but with little result. No one left, no one arrived. The laborers labored on with Kekkonshikian plod, slowly and carefully with no display of emotion. I was displaying enough for all of them. Hanasu's watch tripped through the seconds and minutes--and then the hour. I had missed my appointment. What was worse I had not done the job I had come for. In less than an hour more the spacer would be taking off and there was still no way of getting near it.

  My patience was gone, I was frothing slightly, and thinking up and rejecting one suicidal plan after another, when one of the servicemen decided to leave. He climbed down from the service gantry and walked slowly through the accumulated snow toward one of the buildings. I had to zip around the back, slither on my belly past some lit windows, then dash to the front again. It worked because I was just in time to see him enter a door marked "Benjo" in large letters. I whisked in right behind him and saw what a benjo was.

  Being a respecter of certain rights I restrained myself and let him finish his communion with the gods of the watercloset before I decked him. This also made sure that his fingers were busy with zips and buttons. He never knew what hit him. I knew, it was the edge of my hand. After that it was off with his coveralls, zip-zip with the wire on ankles and wrists, another bit around his head to hold the gag into place, then back into the john. I wired him to the plumbing and locked him into the cubicle. I could have left him out in the snow to freeze to death, but this went very much against my own moral philosophy that I bad been preaching to Hanasu. I also happened to believe in it. All would go well as long as he wasn't discovered until after the spacer took off. Which would not be long now.

  His coveralls were a tight fit but I doubted if anyone would notice the difference. His safety helmet covered my head and, with the collar turned up, very little of me was visible. Now for the final step.

  I felt very conspicuous marching out under the lights with the tube under one arm, the tool bag slung casually in the other. And I had to walk slow, slog along when I wanted to run. This was hard to do, but my only safety lay in looking normal. Slow and steady. No one looked up, no one seemed to care about anything except his own work. I still sighed deeply when I reached the cab of the mobile gantry and threw in my things. The controls were simple enough. Slowly and carefully I drove around the base of the ship, out of sight of any of the servicemen for the moment. But there might be men watching whom I could not see in the darkness so I still moved at the sluggish pace of the others. Onto the gantry with my equipment, then slowly up beside the fin to the top, the standard location of the flare ejector.

  Of course there wasn't one there. This made little difference since I was now taking the place of one of the only people who might spot my addition. It h
ad to go on and on it went. The molecular welder hummed happily and the metal of the holddown fins was joined irrevocably to the metal of the bull. It would not be visible from the ground in the still driving snow.

  "Do the job, baby," I said, patting it affectionately. Then back down and a quick vanishing act.

  This time I didn't risk the walk but drove the gantry away instead, parking it in the shadow of the nearest building. Ten minutes to go. A car rolled out with the crew who stamped stolidly aboard. The other cranes and platforms were pulling away as well and it was getting very close to takeoff time.

  "Why is that gantry here?" a voice behind me asked.

  "Remstma?" I said in a muffled voice, not turning my head. Footsteps approached.

  "I can't hear you. Repeat."

  "Can you hear this?" I said as he got close, whipping about and getting both hands around his neck. His eyes popped, then closed as I banged his skull against the metal frame of the door. With the fate of worlds hanging in the balance I was not gentle. While I was tying him up the spacer took off. It was perhaps the nicest sound I had ever heard.

  "You've done it, Jim, done it again," I congratulated myself since there was no one around to do it for me. "Countless generations yet unborn will bless your name. Countless Kekkonshikians will curse it daily, which is just too bad. The evil era of the gray men is drawing to a close."

  There was a dark doorway nearby into which I dragged the latest unconscious body. As I dropped him, not too gently, inside the archway I saw that there was a very large and complex lock on the door. Why? The sign next to it revealed the reason--and at the same moment gave me the idea about what I had to do next.

  Armory--authorized personnel only. Locked and forbidding-and what a perfect place to hide out. But only after a little misdirection. Easily enough done. I found, my skis, put them on, then slid close to the lighted pad and waited for someone to see me.

  These were the dullest and most unobservant people I had ever met. I slithered back and forth for five minutes without being spotted. It was really getting very boring and I was tired as well. In the end I swooped within ten meters of two of them and actually bad run into some metal drums before they noticed me. When they looked up I put my arm over my face, hunched over, shivered, stumbled, then shot away into the darkness. All that was missing was a white arrow pointing at my back. They didn't react, of course, but I at least hoped they would remember me and the direction I bad gone. Which was straight back to the fence. This time I made a big enough hole to drive a tank through, and left it open as well. Picking up speed I slid off into the darkness, beading for the wide open spaces, leaving a clear trail. Using my light at the same time to see if I could find a way to confuse it. The opportunity came soon enough. A car was grinding along, almost paralleling my own course, so I slanted over to join it. The thing was much faster than I was and was well past when I slid into its tracks. But I didn't go too far this way, just far enough to show our tracks merging and cutting back and forth across each other's.

  When this had been well established I planted my poles and did a reverse turn that would have had my instructors glowing with pride. Up, over and down into the track of the other car ski. Landing cleanly in its track. Then sliding off in the opposite direction, no poles to leave marks, just kicking along well past the point where our tracks had merged.

  After this I just kept on until the snow was covering the cars' tracks. It would cover mine too--and probably the earlier tracks. But if they did follow and see them they would have a false lead. Me, I was heading back to the city and safety.

  They weren't early risers on Kekkonshiki, I'll say that much for them. A few were out, I saw other figures slipping by on skis, but I don't think any of them saw me. Nor did there seem to be any alarm. I reached the edge of the buildings on the far side of the spaceport and there still didn't seem to be anything busy happening. What next? I didn't want to break back in until the chase had gone out the other side. There seemed to be no sign that this was happening as yet. A light in a window beckoned warmly and I slipped over and looked in. A kitchen. Stoves merrily aglow and the cook getting things ready. It looked too good to resist. It was even harder to resist when the roundbottomed and apparently epicene cook turned toward the window and proved to be a female of the species. I had not talked to a female Kekkonshiki yet and the opportunity was too good to resist. Angelina was always accusing me of going after other girls and I should at least give her some sound basis for her suspicions. Even though this visit would negate all of my efforts in false-trail laying and necessitate another effort at misdirection--I still could not resist the temptation. Thus has it been ever with man and maid down through the ages. I found the door, took off my skis, stood them in the snow next to it, and went in.

  "Good morning," I said. "Looks like another cold day, doesn't it."

  She turned to look at me in silence. Young, wide-eyed and not too unattractive in an unpainted, pastoral sort of way.

  "You are the one they are looking for," she said, with just a hint of emotion creeping into her voice. "I must go and give the alarm."

  "You will not give the alarm." I leaned forward, ready to stop her.

  "Yes, master," she said, and turned back to her pots and pans.

  Master! I mulled this a bit and realized that the Kekkonshiki must be the Male Chauvinist Pigs of all time. They treated each other with coldness, lack of emotion, conscious and unconscious cruelty. How must they treat the women! Like this. As chattels, slaves probably. If any of them had protested in the past they had probably been booted out into the snow. A race of docile servants is what the men must have wanted and, obviously, after centuries of breeding they had achieved this noble goal.

  My mind was torn away from philosophical speculation by the rich smells from the pots on the stove. It had been far too long since I had eaten last and, after all the exercise, I realized that hunger was nibbling at my interior with sharp teeth. In the rush of events I had again forgotten about food. Now my stomach was making up for this neglect with warning rumbles and groaning sounds.

  "What's cooking, my fair flower of Kekkonshiki?"

  She kept her eyes lowered and pointed out cooking utensils one by one, slowly and carefully. "In here is boiling water. In here is fish stew. In here are fish dumplings. In here is seaweed sauce. In here. . ."

  "That's fine. I've heard enough. I'll have a portion of each, except for the boiling water that is."

  She ladled some metal bowls full and I tucked in with a curved bone spoon. It was pretty tasteless stuff but I was not complaining. I even managed to eat the entire amount a second time before slowing down. As I slurped and shoveled I watched her closely, but she made no attempt to escape or give a warning.

  "My name is Jim," I said, burping with appreciation. "What's yours?"

  "Kaeru."

  "Fine meal, Kaeru. A little bit light on the seasoning, but that's not your fault--it's the cuisine of the land. Are you happy in this job?"

  "I do not know that word, 'happy."'

  "I'll bet you don't. What kind of hours do you work here?"

  "I do not understand what you mean. I get up, I work, I go to bed. All days are like this."

  "No weekends or holidays either I am sure. This world dearly needs some changes and they are on the way." Kaeru. turned back to her work. "This culture won't have to be busted. It will just fall apart. The historians will keep a record of it and then it will vanish and a touch of civilization will enter your lives. Look forward to a happy tomorrow, Kaeru."

  "Tomorrow I will work like today."

  "Not for too long, I hope." With a delicate pinky nail I probed for a bit of seaweed stuck in the interstices of my teeth. "What time do you serve breakfast?"

  She looked up at the clock. "In a few minutes when the bell rings."

  "Who eats it?"

  "The men here. The soldiers."

  I was off the chair before the last syllable dropped from her lips, pulling on my gloves. "The
food has been great, but I'm afraid I have to be pushing on. Heading south, you know. Got to make some time before the sun comes up. I suppose you wouldn't complain too much if I tied you up?"

  "Do with me what you will, master." Her eyes were lowered when she said it. For the first time in my life I was ashamed of being a male chauvinist pig. "It will be better someday soon, Kaeru, I promise you that. And if I ever get out of this with a whole skin I'll send you a relief parcel. Some dresses, lipstick, and a textbook on fern lib. Now--is there a storeroom here?"

  She pointed it out and I kissed her on the forehead. She immediately started to take her clothes off and was surprised when I stopped her. I could readily imagine what romantic lovers the gray men were! One more crime to answer for. Kaeru made no protests at all when I ushered her into the storeroom and locked it from the outside. She would be discovered soon enough when breakfast was late. But all I needed was a few minutes' headstart.

  After leaving I carried the skis until I came to an icy stretch where my prints did not show. Only then did I put them on and head off in the opposite direction, muddling my trail again when I crossed other ski tracks. There was a good deal more of this sort of thing before I found myself back at the spaceport and, once more, cutting my way through the fence. I could bear sounds of distant excitement, sirens going and engines starting up which seemed to indicate that my earlier visit had been discovered at last. And about time too; I had to stifle a yawn. And wasn't the sky beginning to get a bit lighter? The hour had come to retire. I resealed the fence and slogged on.

  With very little effort I reached the armory unseen. The man I had left in the doorway was gone, as well as everyone else from the vicinity. The lock yielded to my attentions and I breezed through and sealed it behind me. Well done, Jim, you tricky devil. With leaden feet I toured the interior, finally finding a locked room of fragmentation grenades that should be untouched for a while. In and down behind them, hidden from the world, secure and gone to ground, I yielded at once to the lure of sleep.