The Stainless Steel Rat eBook Collection (64 page)

“Not really. You were always going to be plucked out of that terminal swimming pool in any case. We just wanted to see how well you did.”

“How did I do?”

“Very good—for a lad your age. You
got the job.”

“Well good for me. But what about my double—the bloke who took my place?”

“That bloke, as you refer to him, is one of the finest and most expensive humanoid robots that money can afford. Which money will not be wasted since the doctor who is now performing the postmortem is in our pay. The incident is closed.”

“Wonderful,” I sighed, dropping limply onto the couch. “Look, can I
get a drink? It has been a long day. No spirits however—a beer will do fine.”

“A capital idea. I will join you.”

A tiny but well-stocked bar unfolded from one wall; the dispenser produced two chilled brews. I gulped and smacked.

“Excellent. If I have only thirty days to go shouldn’t you be telling me about what you want me to do?”

“In good time,” he said, sitting down across from me. “Captain
Varod asked me to send his regards. And to convey the message that he knew you were lying when you promised to give up a life of crime.”

“So he had me watched?”

“You’re catching on. After this last criminal assignment for us you will become an honest man. Or else.”

“Who are you to talk!” I sneered and drained the glass. “A crooked shyster who is theoretically paid to uphold the law. Yet you
stand by and let the thugs here on Paskonjak pass legislation to have trials
after
an execution—then you employ a criminal to commit a criminal act. Not what I would call sincerely law-abiding.”

“First,” he said, lifting a finger in a very legalistic way, “we have never condoned the secret law in the Mint. It was only recently produced by the overly-paranoid management here. Yours was the first
arrest—and will be the last. There have been numerous job replacements already. Secondly,” another finger rose to join the first, “the League has never condoned violence or criminal acts. This is the first occurrence and has been produced by an unusual series of circumstances. After great deliberation the decision was made to do it just this one time. And never again.”

“Millions might believe
that,” I sneered disbelievingly. “Isn’t it time you told me what the job is?”

“No—because I don’t know myself. My vote was cast against this entire operation so I have been included out. Professor Van Diver will brief you.”

“But what about the thirty-day poison?”

“You will be contacted on the twenty-ninth day.” He stood up and went to the door. “It is against my principles to wish you good
luck.”

This was his puritanical pontificatory exit line. Because as
he went out an elderly type with a white beard and a monocle entered.

“Professor Van Diver I presume?”

“Indeed,” he said extending a damp, limp hand for me to shake. “You must be the volunteer with the
nom de guerre
of Jim about whose presence I was informed, who would await me here. It was very good of you to undertake what
can only be called a rather diligent and difficult assignment.”

“Rather,” I intoned, falling into his academic mode of speech. “Is there any remote possibility that I might be informed of the nature of this assignment?”

“Of course. I have the requisite authority to provide augmentive information to you concerning the history and tragic circumstance of the loss. Another individual, who shall
be nameless, will supply the assistance that you will require. I shall begin with the circumstances that occurred a little over twenty years ago …”

“A beer. I must have refreshment. Will you join me?”

“I abstain from all alcoholic and caffeine-containing beverages.” He glared at me glassily through his menacing monocle as I refilled my mug. I sipped and sat and waved him into action. His voice
washed over me in turgid waves and soon had me half-asleep—but the content of his talk woke me up fast enough. He went on far too long, with far too many digressions, but despite this it was fascinating stuff to listen to.

A stripped-down version wouldn’t have been half as much fun for him and would have taken only a few minutes to tell. Simply, Galaksia Universitato had sent an expedition to
a reported archeological site on a distant world—where they had uncovered an artifact of non-human origin.

“You must be kidding,” I said. “Mankind has explored a great part of the galaxy in the last thirty-two thousand years and no trace of an alien race has ever been found.”

He sniffed loudly. “I do not ‘kid’ as you say in your simple
demotic. I have pictorial proof here, photographs sent back
by the expedition. The artifact was uncovered in a stratum at least a million years old and resembles nothing in any database existent in the known universe.”

He took a print from his inner pocket and passed it over to me. I took it and looked at it, then turned it around since there was no indication of which was top or bottom. A twisted hunk of incongruous angles and forms resembling nothing
I had ever seen before.

“It looks alien enough to be alien,” I said. Looking at it was beginning to hurt my eyes so I dropped it onto the table. “What does it do, or what is it made of or whatever?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea since it was never conveyed to the university. It was, I must say, interrupted in its journey and it is essential that it be recovered.”

“Pretty sloppy way to handle
the only alien artifact in the universe.”

“That is beyond the scope of my authority and not for me to say. But I am authorized to unperfunctorily predicate that it must be found and returned. At any cost—which sums I am duly authorized to pay. Officers of the Galactic League have assured me that you, pseudonymous Jim, have volunteered to find and return the artifact. They have convinced me that
you, as young as you are, are a specialist in these matters. I can only wish you best of luck—and look forward to meeting you again when you return with that which we desire the most.”

He exited then and a bald, uniformed naval officer entered in his place. Closed the door and glared at me with a steely gaze. I glared back.

“Are you the one who is finally going to tell me what is going on?”
I asked.

“Damn right,” he growled. “Damn fool idea—but the only one we have going. I am Admiral Benbow, head of League Navy Security. Those dumbhead academics let the most priceless
object in the universe slip through their fingers—now we have to pick up the pieces and run with the ball.”

The Admiral’s mixed metaphors were as bad as the professor’s academese. Was clear speaking becoming a lost
art?

“Come on,” I said. “Simply tell me what happened and what I am supposed to do.”

“Right.” He slammed down into a chair. “If that is a beer I’ll have one too. No I won’t. A double, no a treble high-octane whisky. No ice. Do it.”

The robobar supplied our drinks. He drained his while I was just lifting mine.

“Now hear this. The expedition concerned was returning from their planetary dig when
their ship experienced communication difficulties. Worried about navigation they landed on the nearest planet, which unhappily and tragically turned out to be Liokukae.”

“Why unhappily and tragically?”

“Shut up and listen. We got them and their ship back relatively intact. But without the artifact. For certain reasons we could do no more. That is why your services have been engaged.”

“So now
you are going to tell me about those certain reasons.”

He coughed and looked away, stood and refilled his glass before speaking again. If I didn’t know better I would have said that the seasoned old space dog was embarrassed.

“You have to understand that keeping the galactic peace is our role and our goal. This is not always possible. There are sometimes individuals, even groups, that are impervious
to our attentions. Violent people, some apparently incurably insane, obnoxious. Despite everything that we can do they remain immune to our blandishments, impervious to our help.” He gulped down the dregs and I had the feeling that we were finally getting to the truth.

“Since we cannot kill them we—and you realize only the
highest authorities know what I am about to tell you—we so to speak arrange,
see to it that they are, well, transported to Liokukae to live the sort of life they prefer to live. Without endangering the peaceful cultures of the union—”

“A galactic garbage dump!” I cried aloud. “Where you holier-than-thou bigots sweep your failures under the carpet! No wonder you keep this a top-secret secret.”

“Just knock off the superior attitude cagal, diGriz. I know your record—and
in my book it stinks. But we have you by the short and curlies since you drank the seven-hundred-and-twenty-hour poison, so you will do just as I say. So now I’m going to fill you in with all the loathsome details re Liokukae, let you see what information we have. Then you will come up with a plan for getting that thing back. You have no choice.”

“Thanks. What resources do I have?”

“Limitless
resources, unrestricted funds, boundless support. Every planet in the galaxy contributes to Galaksia Universitato. They have so many credits that they make the super-rich look super-poor. I want you to take them to the cleaners.”

“Now you are talking my language! For the first time I have some interest in this poisonous project. Bring on the records—and some food—and I will see what I can do.”

Not very much I thought to myself after hours of reading and rereading the thin file, while eating a number of stale and tasteless sandwiches. The Admiral was slumped asleep in the armchair and snoring like a rocket exhaust. There were no answers here, so some questions were very much in order. Which gave me the sweet pleasure of waking him up. A few good shakes did it and those nasty little red
eyes glared into mine.

“You better have a good reason for that.”

“I do. How much do you personally know about Liokukae?”

“Everything, you dimwit. That is why I am here.”

“It seems to be pretty tightly sealed up.”

“Pretty tightly is not the way I would describe it. Hermetically sealed, guarded, patrolled, watched, locked tight, quarantined—take your pick. Food and medicines are shipped in.
Nothing comes out.”

“Do they have their own doctors?”

“No. Medical teams are stationed there in the hospital inside the landing station—which is built like a fortress. And before you even ask—the answer is no. What little trust there is between the Navy and the Liokukaers involves the medical services. They come to us and we treat them. Let them suspect for an instant that the medicos are involved
in hanky-panky and the trust is gone. Disease and death would be certain. We’re not taking a chance on that.”

“If the rest of the civilized galaxy doesn’t know about them—what do they know about us?”

“Everything I suppose. We do not practice censorship. We transmit all the usual TV entertainment channels as well as educational and news services. They are well supplied with television receivers
and can watch reruns of all the most loathsome programs and series. The theory being if we can stun their minds with televised crap they won’t get up to more trouble.”

“Does it work?”

“Possibly. But we do know that they are rated on top of the galactic viewing scale for uninterrupted hours in front of the gogglebox.”

“You go there and take surveys?”

“Don’t be stupid. Recorders are sealed into
the chassis of each set. These can be tapped by satellite.”

“So what we have here is a planet of murderous, belligerent, nutsy TV fans?”

“That’s about the size of it.”

I jumped to my feet, spilling dry crumbs of dead sandwiches onto the carpet. Raised my fists, and my voice, on high.

“That’s it!”

Benbow blinked at me rapidly and scowled. “What’s it?”

“The answer. It is just the glimmering
of an idea now—but I know that it will grow and expand into something incredible. I’m going to sleep on it and when I awake I will polish it and perfect it and describe it to you in detail.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t be greedy. All in good time.”

T
he automated kitchen produced another stale sandwich, the machine was half-knackered and out of adjustment, along with a lukewarm cup of watery cocoa. I crunched and sipped gloomily, then found the bedroom down the hall. Air-conditioned of course—but the window wasn’t sealed. I opened it and sniffed the cool night air. The moon was rising, to join the other three already up. Made for
some interesting shadows. A leg over the windowsill, a drop into the garden—and I would be long gone before any alarm might go off.

And I would be dead in twenty-nine days. That little drink I had drunk in prison really concentrated my attention and guaranteed my loyalty. But could I pull this complicated operation off in that space of time?

Considering the consequences I had no choice. I sighed
tremulously, closed the window and went to bed. It had been a very, very long day.

In the morning I had picked the lock on the control panel in the kitchen and was busy rewiring it when Admiral Benbow came in.

“May I inquire politely just what the hell you are doing?”

“Obviously trying to get this crook device to produce something other than stale cheese sandwiches. There!”

I slammed the panel
shut and punched in a command. A cup of steaming coffee instantly appeared. Followed by a porcuswinewich, steaming and juicy. The Admiral nodded.

“I’ll take this one—get another for yourself. Now tell me your plan.”

I did. Mumbling through mouthfuls of breakfast.

“We are going to spend some credits out of the mountains of money that we have access to. First we plant some news items. I want
interviews, reviews, gossip and more—all about the new pop group that is the hit of the galaxy.”

He scowled and growled. “What pop group? What in hades are you talking about?”

“The planet-busting hit group called …”

“Called what?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it yet. Something way out and memorable. Or kinky.” I smiled and raised an inspired finger. “I have it! Ready? The group is
called … The Stainless Steel Rats!”