The Stainless Steel Rat Gets Drafted ssr-7
Page 26
“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 1. 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.”
Stimer 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!
FB2 document info
Document ID: 8548f879-12dd-43d2-9acf-17c077bd8731
Document version: 1.1
Document creation date: 01.11.2002
Created using: ClearTXT, EditPad, FBTools, XMLExport.dot software
Document authors :
Сергей Соколов (Renar)
Document history:
v. 1.1 – some corrections in the formatting done by Stranger, 22.09.2005
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