The Stainless Steel Rat Gets Drafted ssr-7

by Harry Harrison

“This is all very exciting, sir! Armed forces you say? That would mean weapons. Are those weapons that you are carrying?”

  “They are. And be warned—we will defend ourselves if attacked.”

  “I wouldn’t concern myself with-that. As a firm believer in Individual Mutualism I would never harm another.”

  “But your army—or your police would!” I said, trickily.

  “I know the words, of course, but you need not fear. There is no army here, nor do we have a police force. May I offer you some refreshments? I am being a very bad host.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” I muttered. “Sergeant, get a connection to General Lowender’s staff. Tell them we have made contact with the enemy. No sign of resistance. Informant says no armed forces, no police.” Closely watched by my gun-gripping troops, Stirner had opened a cabinet and removed a tall and interesting bottle. He set this on a table along with a tray of glasses.

  “Wine,” he said. “A very good one, for special guests. I hope you and your associates will enjoy it.” He handed me a glass.

  “You taste it first,” I said with military suspicion.

  “Your politeness, nameless sir, puts me to shame.” He sipped then passed me a glass. It was very good.

  “Got the general himself,” the sergeant called out urgently, running over with the radio. “Captain Drem speaking.”

  “Drem—what does this report mean? Have you found the enemy?”

  “I’ve occupied the generating plant, sir. No casualties.

  . No resistance encountered.”

  “You are the first to make contact. What are their defenses like?”

  “Nonexistent, general. No resistance was offered of any kind. My prisoner states no military, no police.” The general made noises of disbelief. “I’m sending a chopper for you and the prisoner. I want to question him myself. Out.”

  Wonderful. The last place I wanted to be was with the top brass. There was too good a chance of General Zennor appearing and recognizing me from the bad old days when he was known as Garth. Self-survival urged me to climb into a hole. But weighed against my personal needs was the chance that I might be able to save lives. If I could convince the military numbskulls that there really would be no resistance. If I didn’t do that, surely some triggerhappy cagal-kopf was sure to get nervous and start firing. All of his jumpy buddies would then join in and… It was a very realistic scenario. I had to make some effort to avoid it.

  “An order from the general,” I told my expectant troops. “I’m to bring him the prisoner. Transport is on the way, You are in charge. Sergeant Blogh, until Lieutenant Hesk gets here to relieve you. Take over. And take care of the

  He saluted and they were grabbing for the bottle when I left. Would such simple military pleasures were mine.

  “You’re coming with me,” I told Stirner, pointing toward the door.

  “No, my duty is here. I am afraid I cannot oblige you.”

  “It is not me you are going to oblige, it is your own people. There is a big army out there. All of them armed with weapons like this. They are now invading your country and are taking it over. People could be killed. But lives can be saved if I take you to the commanding officer and you manage to convince jiim there will be no resistance from your people. Do you understand me?”

  A look of horror had been growing on his face as I talked. “You are serious?” he gasped. “You mean what you are saying.” I nodded grimly. “Of course, then, yes. Incomprehensible, but I must come. I can’t believe this.”

  “The feeling is mutual.” I led him to the door. “I can understand not having an army, all civilized worlds get by without the military. But the police, a necessary evil I would say.”

  “Not for those who practice Individual Mutualism.” He was brightening up now at this chance to deliver a little lecture.

  “I never heard of it. “

  “How unfortunate for you! At the risk of simplifying I will explain…”

  “Captain Drem, I got to talk to you!” the fallen corporal said, climbing out of the command car despite Morton’s feeble efforts to stop him. He stopped in front of me, snapped to attention and saluted.

  “I now see the error of my ways, sir. I thought because you are young and looked weak that I knew better than you, so I disobeyed an order and loaded my gun. I know now that I was wrong and you were right and I respectfully request a second chance since I am a thirty-year man and the army is my career.”

  “And how do you know now that I was right. Private Aspya?”

  He looked at me, eyes aglow. “Because you beat me,

  sir! Knocked me down, fair and square. A man gotta do what a man gotta do—and you did it!”

  What kind of macho-cagal was this? He had disobeyed a reasonable command that was aimed at avoiding violence. Only when I had hashed him unconscious did he feel that I was right. The mind reeled at this kind of perverse, inverted logic—and I really didn’t have time to think about it. About all I could do was play along and forget about it.

  “You know, ex-corporal, I think that I believe you. It takes a real man to admit that he was wrong. So even though you are a miserable low private and I am an on-high captain—I’m going to shake your hand and send you back to duty!”

  “You’re a real man, captain, and you will never regret this!” He pumped away at my hand, then staggered off knuckling a tear from his eye. There was a growing clatter from the sky and shadow drifted across us and I looked up to see the chopper dropping down toward us.

  “Morton—you’re in charge until I get back. Go to Sergeant Blogh and take command and let him make all the decisions and then agree with him.”

  He could only nod as I guided Stirner to the chopper and climbed in behind him.

  “Take us to the general,” I ordered the pilot. Then sighed heavily. I had the feeling that I was putting my head into the noose and settling it nicely around my neck. But, really, I had no other choice.

  “I have read of such vehicles in the history books,” Stirner said, looking out of the window with admiration as we rattled skyward. “This is a very important moment for me, nameless sir.”

  “Captain, you can call me captain.”

  “My pleasure to meet you, Captain. And thank you for the opportunity to explain to your leaders that they may come in ‘peace. They must not be afraid. We would never harm them.”

  “It was the other way around that I was worried about.” There was no more time for gossip because the chopper was dropping down beside an armored column of tanks. Tables, armchairs, and a wet bar, had been set up under a tent in the field close by, and we settled down just out of rotor-blast of the officers assembled there. I jumped down, delivered a snappy salute and relaxed. Zennor wasn’t there. I turned and helped Stirner get out and pushed him toward General Lowender.

  “This is the prisoner, sir. He speaks a vile local language which I just happened to have learned in school so I can translate.”

  “Impossible,” he said gri~y. “You are an infantry offi-

  cer, not a translator. Major Kewsel is the staff translator. Major, translate!”

  The dark-haired major shouldered me aside and stood before the prisoner.

  “Kton ci komprenas?” he shouted. “Sprechten zee Poopish? Ancay ooyay eekspay lgpay Atinlay? Ook kook Volupook?”

  “Very sorry, sir, but I don’t understand a word that you are saying.”

  “Got him!” the major announced happily. “A little-known •dialect, spoken on dreary planets trundling heavily around dark stars. I learned its boring cacophonies when I was involved in the meat trade years ago. Importing porcuswine cutlets…”

  “Cut the cagal, major, and translate. Ask him where the army is and how many police stations there are in this city.”

  I listened with some interest as the major, despite his inborn desire to talk and not listen, finally elicited the same information that I had. The general sighed unhappily.

  “If this is true—then we jus
t can’t shoot them down in cold blood.” He turned to me. “And you are positive there was no resistance offered?”

  “None, sir. It apparently goes against their strongest beliefs. May I congratulate you, general, on the first bloodless invasion in the known universe! You will soon have captured this entire planet for the greater glory of Nevenkebia—without losing a single soldier.”

  “Don’t cheer too soon, captain. Medals don’t go to generals who bring back the troops intact. Battle! That’s where the glory is! There will be fighting, mark my words. It is human nature. They can’t all be cowards on this planet.”

  “Lowender—what’s happening?” a familiar voice asked and my blood temperature fell about ten degrees. I did not move, stood stiffly with my back to the speaker. The general pointed.

  “We have our first prisoner. General Zennor. I have been questioning him. He talks nonsense. No army, no police he says.”

  “And you believe him? Where was he caught?”

  “At the generating plant, by Captain Drem there.” Zennor glanced at me, then away. I kept my back straight and my face expressionless as he suddenly turned around to face me again.

  “Where do I know you from, captain?”

  “Training, sir. Maneuvers,” I said in the deepest voice I could muster. He walked over and pushed his face close to mine.

  “That’s not true. Somewhere else. And you were with someone else…”

  His eyes lit with recognition and he stabbed his finger at me. “The Bishop! You were with The Bishop—”

  “And you killed him!” I shouted as I dived and got the three-seconds-to-death stranglehold on his neck. One second… unconscious. Second second… limp. Third…

  All the lights went out. There was a great deal of pain in the back of my head and then nothing. My last thought was—had I held the grip through the third second?

  Chapter 17

  A measureless time later I was aware of pain spreading from the back of my head down through my body. I moved to get away from it but it would not leave. It was dark—or were my eyes closed? I had no desire to find out. Everything hurt too much. I groaned and it sounded so good that I did it a second time. Vaguely, through the

  • groaning, I was aware of my shoulders being lifted and something wet on my lips. I gurgled and spluttered. Water. It tasted very good. I drank some and felt slightly better. The pain was still there, but not so much that I couldn’t risk opening one eye. I did. A face swam blurrily above me and after a certain amount of blinking it became clear.

  “Morton… ?” I muttered.

  “None other,” With an expression of abject gloom. He pulled at me until I sat against the wall and my head appeared to be exploding in tiny bits. His voice barely penetrated.

  “Take this, in your mouth. Drink some more water. The doctor said you were to swallow it when you came to. For the head.”

  Poison? No such luck. Medicine. The pain ebbed and rose and finally slipped away to a dull ache. I opened my eyes all the way and saw a sad-looking and bruised Morton framed against a background of bars. “Is he dead?” I croaked. “Who?”

  “General Zennor.”

  “He looked very much alive when he was here about half an hour ago.”

  I sighed drearily—and with mixed emotions. I had wanted vengeance, wanted Zennor to pay heavily for being responsible for The Bishop’s death. I thought that I had wanted him dead as well. But having tried murder this once, really tried it, I was glad that I had been stopped. Now that I had made my first homicidal attempt I discovered that I did not really enjoy the process of killing people. I was a failed killer. And in failing I had really got myself in the cagal. And had pulled Morton in too.

  “Sorry about all this,” I said. “I got so carried away I never stopped to think that I would probably implicate you as well.”

  “Sergeant Blogh turned me in when the MPs came to investigate. He knew I wasn’t an officer. I told them everything. Even before they knocked me around.”

  “I’m to blame for what happened.”

  “Don’t think like that. Not your fault. They would have got me sooner or later, one way or the other. The army and me, we are just not on the same plane. You did your best, Jak.”

  “Jim. Real name is Jim diGriz. From a distant planet.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jim. You a spy?”

  “No. Just here to right a wrong. Your General Zennor was responsible for the death of my best friend. I came here looking for him.”

  “What about that talking bird and all the other stuff?” I touched my fingers to my lips and looked at the door. Morton shook his head in puzzlement, I spoke up before he could add anything.

  “You mean that talking bird joke I was going to tell you, about the kid in school who had the talking bird who turned into an alcoholic and became a missionary? I remember the joke—but I forgot the punchline.” Morton was now staring at me as if I had gone out of my mind. I looked around and discovered that I was lying on a thin mattress resting on a very dusty floor. I used my finger to write QUIET—THEY MIGHT BE LISTENING! in the dust. I looked at his face until he finally caught on, then rubbed out the message. “Anyway, Morton, I don’t feel like telling jokes now. Where are we?”

  “Big building in the city. Looks like the army took it over. They must be using it for aheadquarters or something. All I know is that they brought me here in a rush, worked me over then dumped me in here with you. The building is full of soldiers.”

  “Any civilians?”

  “None that I saw…”

  We both looked up as the lock rattled in the door and it opened. A lot of armed MPs pushed in and pointed their guns at us. Only after this did General Zennor enter. He had a bandage around his neck and the urge to kill in his eye.

  ; “Are you sure that you are safe now, Zennor,” I said as sweetly as I could. He came over and kicked me in the side.

  “Aren’t we brave—” I gasped through the pain. “Kick a wounded man lying down.”

  He drew his boot back again, thought about it, then drew his pistol and pointed it between my eyes.

  “Get the other prisoner out of here. Leave us alone. Bring me a chair.”

  One thing about the military, they just relish following orders. With much shouted commands and stamping of boots Morton was hustled away, the MPs vanished, a wooden chair appeared and was placed respectfully under the general’s bottom. He sat down slowly without taking his eyes or the gun muzzle off of me. He did not speak until the door clicked shut.

  “I want to know how you got here, how you followed me. Everything.”

  Why not? I thought, rubbing my sore side. I was too knocked about to make up any complex lies—nor was there any need. The truth would be easier. With a little editing of course.

  “Everything, Zennor? Why not. The last time I saw you was when you sold us down the river on Spiovente. That is a rough planet, and no place for an old man like The Bishop. He died there—and that makes you responsible for his death.”

  He touched the bandage on his neck and snarled, “Get on with it.”

  “Little more to tell. A few wars, murder, torture, the usual thing. I survived only to be rescued by the League Navy who also arrested me and brought me here. I escaped from them and found you because of your one big mistake.”

  “What nonsense are you speaking?”

  “No nonsense. Truth, Captain Garth. Didn’t you have the girl. Bibs, arrested for selling dope?”

  “That is not important.”

  “It. was to Bibs! She is a free woman now, you will be unhappy to hear, and before she left she told me how to find you. End of story.”

  He weighed the gun thoughtfully, his finger caressing the trigger. I tried not to notice it.

  “Not quite the end yet. You are the spy who landed in Marhaveno?”

  “Yes. And penetrated your slack and incompetent army. Then rose in rank until I got you by the neck and gave you a good choking. When you wake up at night in a cold sweat rememb
er—1 could have shot you just as well. Now, are you going to shoot me, or are you just playing with that gun?”

  “Don’t tempt me, little man. But that would be a waste. I shall put your death to better use. You and your associate will be tried and found guilty of a number of charges. Attacking a superior officer, impersonating an officer, threatening military security. After which you will both be shot. In oublic.”

  “And what will that accomplish?”

  “It will c6nvincethe stubborn people of this planet that we do what we say. They are a bloodless, spineless lot that let us walk in and take their planet away from them. Now they whine that they wish to have it back. They refuse to do any work until we leave. They have all walked away from their jobs. The city will soon be paralyzed. Your death will change that.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  “I do. They will then know that I mean what I say. We will take hostages and shoot ~hem if they do not cooperate.” I was on my feet, anger burning me. “You are a mean and worthless bastard, Zennor. I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

  “Well you didn’t,” he said. Then fired as I jumped at him.

  The bullet must have missed but the explosion deafened me. I fell and he kicked me again. Then the room was full of MPs all trying to stomp on me at once.

  “Enough!” Zennor shouted and boots fell away. I was on all fours, looking up at him through a haze of blood. ’ “Clean him up, fresh uniform, same for the other one. Trial in two hours.”

  I must have been punchy from the kicking because I was only vaguely aware of being worked on, of Morton reappearing, of time oozing by. I finally came back almost to reality when I found him pulling off my shirt.

  “Let go. I can do it myself.” I biinked at the fresh uniform on the chair, at Morton uniformed and crisp and a private once again. My new-old rank as well I saw. I dropped the bloody shirt on the floor, then pulled off my boots so I could take off the trousers as well. Boots. Boots? Boots!

  I tried not to smirk or let on in case the place was bugged.

  “You know about the trial?” Morton nodded glumly. “How much more time do we have?”