The Stainless Steel Rat Wants You

by Harry Harrison

  Hanasu was wide-eyed and rigid, his mind in a turmoil as he considered these unusual ideas. Nodding his head.

  "It is just as you say. It is a novel thing to apply Moral Philosophy to a new situation. It has never been done before. There were no new situations. There are now. We have been wrong and I see now how we have been wrong. We simply reacted to other human beings. We were emotional. We violated the basic tenets of Moral Philosophy. When I explain all will understand. We will save the human race." He turned to me and clasped my hand. "You have saved us from ourselves, my friend. We have broken the tenets by what we have done. Now we will make them right. I will go forth and speak."

  "Let's set it up. We must be sure that Kome doesn't shoot first and debate later. If we keep him quiet do you think that you can convince the troops?"

  "There is no doubt. None will dare disagree with what I say for I will explain the law as it is written, as it is taught, as they have learned since they were small boys like the ones here."

  As though right on cue some of these same small boys burst the door open. There were a lot of them there, filling the doorway, all heavily armed. Led by one of their teachers who pointed the gun directly at me.

  "Put down your weapon," he ordered. "I will shoot and kill if you do not."

  TWENTY-ONE

  Of course my gun was pointing at the pack; my reflexes are still in good shape. I had drawn and crouched automatically as the door had crunched. Now I rose slowly and let the gun drop to my side. I was seriously outgunned, by deadly weapons held by nervous boys.

  "Don't shoot, you've got me cold!" I called out.

  "What is the meaning of this?" Hanasu asked, standing and walking toward the door. "Lower those weapons. This is an order."

  The boys obeyed instantly--they knew who the headmaster was--but the teacher wavered. "Kome has said. . ."

  "Kome is not here. Kome is wrong. I order you for the last time to put that weapon down." The teacher hesitated for an instant too long and Hanasu turned to me. "Shoot him," he ordered.

  Of course I did, and he thudded to the floor. With a sleep needle of course, though the boys did not have to know that. And I doubted if Hanasu cared. He was not used to his orders being disobeyed. "Hand me that gun," he ordered the nearest boy. "And call an assembly of the entire school at once."

  They handed over the guns and instantly left. I dragged in the teacher's body and laid it next to his pupils. Hanasu closed the door, deep in thought.

  "Here is what we will do," he finally said. "I will explain the differences to everyone in terms of Moral Philosophy. They have been troubled with internal conflicts over the application and this problem will now be resolved. After they have understood we will march on the spaceport. Kome and his activists are there. I will explain again and they will join us. Then you will call your ship down and we will proceed to the second part of the program."

  "That all sounds very good. But what if they don't agree with you?"

  "They will have to. Because it is not me they are agreeing with but the text of Moral Philosophy as it is written. Once they understand it will not be a matter of choice or agreement but of obedience."

  He sounded very sure of himself so I crossed my fingers behind his back and hoped that he was right.

  "Maybe I should come with you. In case of trouble?"

  "You will wait here until you are summoned."

  Hanasu exited on that line and I could do nothing other than let him go. The row of unconscious figures depressed me, so I unlimbered my radio and contacted my ships; to put them into the picture. They would stand by, in orbit above the spaceport, and await further orders. I broke the connection when there was a knock on the door.

  "Come with me," a stem-faced little boy ordered. I obeyed. Hanasu was waiting by the open front door of the school while boys and teachers streamed by him on both sides.

  "We go to the spaceport," he said. "We will reach it at dawn."

  "No problems?"

  "Of course not. I could tell that they were relieved to have this conflict over interpretation of the rulings of Moral Philosophy made clear to them. My people are strong, but they get their strength from obedience. Now they are stronger still."

  Hanasu drove the only car in the procession and I was glad to travel with him. The rest of the staff and the students slogged along on skis. Uncomplainingly, despite the fact they had all been sound asleep less than an hour before. There is a lot to be said for discipline. There is nothing to be said for the comfort of Kekkonshiki groundcars. Though this trip was a little smoother than the first one, since Hanasu drove slower so the skiers could keep up. Dawn was lighting up the first snowstorm of the morning as we reached the spaceport entrance. Two guards emerged from the shack and looked stolidly at the car and following skiers as though this happened every day.

  "Tell Kome I am here to see him," Hanasu ordered.

  "None are permitted in. Kome has ordered. All enemy are to be killed. That is an enemy in your car. Kill him."

  Hanasu's voice was cold as the grave, although it rang with authority.

  "The Fourteenth Rule of Obedience states you will obey the orders of one of the Ten. I have given you an order. There is no rule that there are enemies to be killed. Stand aside."

  A trace of emotion almost touched the guard's face, then was gone. He stepped back. "Proceed," he said. "Kome will be informed."

  In line now, our juvenile and senile invading force swept across the spaceport toward the administration buildings. We passed antiaircraft implacements, but the men manning them only looked on and made no attempt to stop us. It was gray, chill dawn now, with sudden snow flurries blasting by. Our car stopped in front of the entrance to administration and Hanasu had just climbed, creaking, down when the door opened. I stayed in the car and tried to look invisible. Kome and a dozen followers emerged, all carrying guns.

  It must have been the cold that was chilling my brain because I realized, for the first time, that I was the only one in our party who was armed.

  "Go back to your school, Hanasu. You are not wanted here," Kome shouted, getting in the first word. Hanasu ignored him, walking forward until he was face to face with the other man. When he spoke he spoke loudly so all could hear.

  "I tell you all to put your guns away for what you are doing is against the rule of Moral Philosophy. By that rule we must lead the weak races. By that rule we must not commit suicide by fighting all the other races who outnumber us millions to one. If we fight them as we are doing now we will all be killed. Is this what the Thousand taught us? You must. . ."

  "You must get out of here," Kome called out. "It is you who break the rule. Go or be killed." He raised his gun and pointed it. I slipped out of the door of the car.

  "I wouldn't do that if I were you," I said, my own gun pointing.

  "You bring an alien here!" Kome's voice was loud, almost angry. "He will be killed, you will be killed. . ."

  His voice broke off and there was a loud crack as Hanasu stepped forward and slapped him hard across the face.

  "You are proscribed," Hanasu said, and there was a gasp of indrawn breath from all the watchers. "You have disobeyed. You are ended."

  "Ended? Not me, you!" Kome cracked, his voice roared with rage, whipping up his gun.

  I dived to the side, trying for a shot, but Hanasu was in the way. There was the crackling roar of gunfire.

  Yet Hanasu still stood there. Unmoving as Kome's ragged body fell to the ground. All of his followers had fired at him at the same time. The rule of Kekkonshiki Moral Philosophy had destroyed him. Cahn and undisturbed, Hanasu turned to all those present and explained his newly discovered interpretation of the Law. They tried not to show expression, but it was obvious that they were relieved. There was solidity in their lives again, structure and order. Kome's huddled body was the only evidence that there had ever been a schism and, from the way they stood, they obviously did not see it nor want to look at it. Order had returned.

  "You can
come down now," I ordered into my radio.

  "Negative. Priority override orders."

  "Negative!" I shouted into the microphone. "What are you talking about. Get those crates down here instantly or I'll fry your commander and eat him for lunch."

  "Negative. Order issuing vessel on way ETA three minutes."

  The connection was broken and I could only stare, popeyed, at the radio. What development was this? More and more men were coming up and listening to Hanasu. The situation was well in hand, a solution possible-and I got more troubles. A slim scoutship dropped down through the snowstorms and I was at the port when it swung open. Fire in my eye and my fingers twitching millimeters from my gunbutt. A familiar and loathsome form stepped out.

  "You!" I cried.

  "Yes, it is I. And just in time to prevent a miscarriage of moral justice."

  It was Jay Hovah, boss of the Morality Corps. And I had more than a strong suspicion why he was here.

  "You're not needed here," I said. "Nor are you dressed for the weather. I suggest you get back inside."

  "Morality comes first," he shivered, for no one had told him about the climate and he was wearing just his usual bathrobe outfit.

  "I tried talking to him, but he would not listen," an even more familiar voice said, and Angelina emerged from behind him.

  "Darling!" I called out and we had a quick embrace then drew away as Jay Hovah's voice came between us.

  "It is my understanding that your mission here is to convince these people to use psychcontrol techniques on the aliens so we can win the war. These techniques are immoral and will not be used."

  "Who is this who comes here?" Hanasu asked in his coldest voice.

  "His name is Jay," I said. "In charge of our Morality Corps. He makes sure that we don't do things that violate our own moral codes."

  Hanasu looked him up and down like some specimen of vermin, then turned away and faced me. "I .have seen him," be said. "You may now take him away. Have your ships land so the operation against the aliens can begin."

  "I don't think you heard me," Jay Hovah said through chattering teeth. "This operation is forbidden. It is immoral."

  Hanasu turned slowly to face him and impaled him with an arctic stare. "You do not talk to me of immorality. I am a Leader in Moral Philosophy and I interpret the Law. What we did to the aliens to start this war was a mistake. We will now utilize the same techniques to stop it."

  "No! Two wrongs do not make a right. It is forbidden."

  "You cannot stop us, for you have no authority here. You can only order us killed to stop us. If we are not killed we will do what must be done as ordered by our own moral code."

  "You will be stopped. . ."

  "Only by death. If you cannot order us killed remove yourself and your interference."

  Hanasu turned his back and walked away. Jay moved his jaw a few times, but had trouble talking. He was also turning blue. I waved two of the schoolboys over.

  "Here, lads. Help this poor old man back into his ship so he can warm up and consider the old philosophical problem of an irresistible force meeting an immovable object."

  Jay tried to protest, but they gave him a firm clutch and frogmarched him back aboard.

  "What happens now?" Angelina asked.

  "The Kekkonshiki are unleashed and go out and try to win the war. There is no way that the Morality Corps can find justification for killing them in order to stop them from saving us. I think that will be a little too much hair-splitting even for Jay and Incuba. He can maybe order us not to give aid to the Kekkonshiki, but will probably have a hard time justifying even that."

  "I'm sure that you are right. Then what is next?"

  "Next? Why, saving the galaxy, of course. Again."

  "That's my ever-modest husband," she said, but tempered her admonitory words by kissing me soundly.

  TWENTY-TWO

  "That really looks impressive, don't you think?" I asked.

  "I think it looks disgusting," Angelina said, wrinkling her nose. "Not only that, they stink."

  "An improvement over the first model, Remember, where we are going anything bad must be good."

  In a way Angelina was right. It did look disgusting. Which was good, very good. We stood at the front of the main cabin of the spaceliner we had commandeered for this job. Before us stretched row after row of heavy chairs, almost five hundred in all. And in each chair there crouched, or flopped, or oozed, a singularly repulsive alien. Something to gladden the eyestalks of the enemy I was sure, for all of these had been patterned after my first alien disguise. More of the same race, the Geshtunken. What would not have gladdened the multiple hearts and plasma pumps of the enemy, if they had known, was the fact that each of these aliens held a solemn-faced Kekkonshiki. While built into each thrashing tail was a high-powered synaptic generator. Our crusade for peace had begun.

  Not that organizing it had been easy. The Morality Corps was still resolutely set against our brain-twisting the enemy. But their authority worked through planetary governments and the heads of staff. For once I blessed the complex tangle of bureaucratic tanglement. While orders were issued and routed a few of us in the Special Corps launched a rush program to circumvent the orders before we received them. Key technicians were whisked away and their destination lost in the files. A protesting Prof Coypu was ripped from his midnight bed and found himself in deep space before be had put his socks on. A certain highly automated manufacturing planet had been co-opted by our agents and the Kekkonshiki volunteers were spacelifted there. While the alien disguises were being fabricated, Hanasu beaded the programming team of psychcontrol technicians. We had barely succeeded in time, finally blasting off short hours ahead of the battleship that Morality Corps had dispatched to stop us. In the end this aided instead of hurting since we zipped up to the alien fleet with the battleship belting along after us. A few barrages from the space-whales had it turning tail.

  "We're within communication distance now," I announced. "Are you ready for your work, Kekkonshiki volunteers?"

  "We are ready," came the loud but unemotional response.

  "Good luck, then. On suits, my crew."

  I climbed into my alien outfit and Angelina got into hers. James was in one robot disguise, Bolivar in the other. They waved, then clanged the tops shut. I zipped my neck and turned on the communicator.

  "My darling Sleepery Jeem returned from the gravel" a repulsive thing with claws and tentacles rattled and gurgled at me from the screen.

  "I do not know you, ugly sir," I simpered. "But you must have made the acquaintance of my twin. I am her sister, Sleepery Bolivar." I actuated the trigger that released a large and oily tear that trickled down my lengthened eyelashes and splashed to the deck. "Back on Geshtunken we heard of her noble death. We have come for vengeance!"

  "Welcome, welcome," the thing gurgled and writhed.

  "I am Sess-Pula, the new commander of all the forces. Join me at once and we will have great stinking banquet!"

  I did as ordered, joining our ships and rolling to his rotten welcome with Angelina at my side. I had to sidestep neatly to avoid Sess's wet embrace and he squashed to the deck instead.

  "Meet Ann-Geel, my chief of staff. These little robots bring gifts of food and drink which we will now consume."

  The party rolled into high gear at once, and more and more of the ship's officers came to Join us until I wondered who was flying the thing. Probably no one. "How goes the war?" I asked.

  "Terrible!" Sess moaned, draining a flagon, of something green and bubbly. "Oh, we have the alien crunchies, on the run all right, but they won't stop and fight. Morale runs low since all of our soldiers are fed up with war and want only to return to the sticky embraces of their loved things. But the war must go on. I think."

  "Help is on the way," I cried, slapping him on the back, then wiping off my band on the rug. "My ship is filled with bloodthirsty volunteers all lusting for war and victory and vengeance. In addition to being great fighters and hav
ing good senses of smell, my troops are great navigators and fire control officers, watchkeeping officers and cooks." "By Slime-Gog we can use them!" Sess gurgled aloud. "Do you have many troops with you?"

  "Well," I said coyly. "We might just have enough to spare one for each of your battleships, and each battleship can lead a fleet, and if the officers of the fleet want advice or morale boosting they are welcome to talk to my people who work night and day and are sexy to boot."

  "We are saved!" he screamed.

  Or lost, I thought to myself, smiling toothily at the disgusting revelry on all sides. I wondered how long it would take for my brainscrambling saboteurs to get the job done.

  Not long, not long at all. Since the aliens had had to be convinced to go to war in the first place, were fed up in the second place, they were ripe for subversion in the third place. Ile rot spread and it was only a few days later that Sess-Pula slithered up to me in the navigation room where I was making sure, by rotten navigation, that we didn't catch up with the fleeing human fleet. He looked gloomily at the screen with a half dozen bloodshot eyestalks.

  "Not sleeping too well lately?" I asked, flicking one of his rudy orbs with a claw. He sucked it back in unhappily.

  "You can say that again, bold Woleevar. It is all too depressing, the fleet seems to be getting away, back in my home hive last year's crop of virgins will be approaching estrous. I keep asking myself what I am doing here."

  "What are you doing here?"

  "I don't know. My heart has gone out of this war."

  "Funny. I was thinking the same thing last night. Have you noticed that the aliens really aren't too crunchy? They have damp eyes and nasty-looking wet red things in their mouths."

  "You're right!" he slobbered. "I never thought of that before. What can we possibly do?"

  "Well . . ." I said, and for all apparent purposes that was that. Ten hours later, after a lot of radioing back and forth among the ships, the mightiest fighting armada the galaxy had ever seen was cutting a great arc in space. Turning, reversing, going back to the creepy places from whence they bad come.