I drank. It tasted all right. I belched and handed back the glass. “I’ll take a refill.” Anything to gain time, to think. I watched the wine being poured and my brain was dull and empty. “You never told me about the … execution.”
“Do you want to know?”
“Not really.”
“Then I will be pleased to tell you. I assure you that there was extensive deliberation over the correct method to be used. Thought was given to the firing squad, electrocution, poison gas—a number of possibilities were actively considered when the law was passed. But all of them involve someone pulling a switch or a trigger, and that would not be humane to the someone.”
“Humane! What about the prisoner?”
“Of no importance. Your death has been decreed and will take place as soon as possible. This is what will happen. You will be taken to a sealed chamber and chained there. The entrance will be locked. After this the chamber will be flooded with water by an automatic device actuated by your body heat. It is always there, always turned on. You alone will be responsible for your own execution. Now isn’t that quite quite humane?”
“Drowning is humane all of a sudden?”
“Possibly not. But you will be left a pistol containing a single bullet. You can commit suicide if you wish to.”
I opened my mouth to tell him what I thought of their humanity, but I was seized by many hands and dragged forward before I could speak. The glass was whisked away—and so was I. Deep down to a dank chamber, walls damp with water and covered with moss. A cuff was clamped around my ankle; a chain ran from it to a staple in the wall. They all exited except for the Colonel who stood with his hand on the operating lever of the thick, undoubtedly watertight, door.
He grinned in victorious triumph, bent over and placed an antique pistol on the floor. As I dived for it the door shut and sealed with a final thud.
Was this really the end? I turned the pistol over in my hands, saw the dull shape of the single cartridge. End of Jim diGriz, end of the Stainless Steel Rat, end of everything.
There was the distant thunk of a valve opening and cold water gushed down on me from a thick pipe in the ceiling. It gurgled and slopped, covering my feet, then quickly up to my ankles. When it reached my waist I lifted the gun and looked at it. Not much of a choice. The water rose steadily. Covered my chest, up to my chin. I shuddered.
Then the water stopped splashing down. It was cold and I was shivering uncontrollably. The light in the waterproof fixture revealed only stone wall, dark water.
“What are you playing at bastardacoj?” I shouted. “Humane torture to go with your humane murder?”
A moment later I got my answer. The level began to drop.
“I was right—torturers!” I bellowed. “Torture first—then murder. And you call yourself civilized. Why are you doing this?”
The last of the water gurgled down the drain and the door slowly opened. I aimed the pistol at it. I wouldn’t mind drowning if I could take the cretinous colonel or the sadistic sergeant with me.
Something dark appeared through the partly open door. The gun banged and the bullet thudded into it. A briefcase.
“Cease fire!” a male voice called out. “I am your lawyer.”
“He only has one bullet, you’re safe,” I heard the Colonel say.
The briefcase came hesitantly into the room, carried by a gray-haired man who was wearing the traditional gold-flecked and diamond decorated black suit that adorned lawyers throughout the galaxy.
“I am your court-appointed lawyer, Pederasis Narcoses.”
“What good will you do me—if the trial will be after my execution?”
“None. But that is the law. I will have to interview you now to enable me to conduct your defense at the trial.”
“This is madness—I’ll be dead!”
“That is correct. But it is the law.” He turned to the Colonel. “I must be alone with my client. That is also the law.”
“You have ten minutes, no longer.”
“That will suffice. Admit my assistant in five minutes. He has the court papers and the will.”
The door thunked shut and Narcoses opened his briefcase and took out a plastic bottle filled with a greenish liquid. He removed the top and handed it to me.
“Drink this, all of it. I’ll hold the gun.”
I handed him the weapon, took the bottle, smelled it and coughed. “Horrible. Why should I drink it?”
“Because I told you to. It is of vital importance and you have no choice.”
Which was true—and what difference would it make anyway? I glugged it down. The champagne had tasted a lot better.
“I will now explain,” he said, recapping the bottle and putting it back into his briefcase. “You have just drunk a thirty-day poison. This is a computer-generated complex of toxins that are neutral now—but which will kill you horribly in exactly thirty days if you are not given the antidote. Which is also computer-generated and impossible to duplicate.”
He jumped back quite smartly when I leaped at him. But the chain on my ankle would not quite reach. My fingers snapped ineffectually just in front of his throat.
“If you will cease clawing at the air I will explain,” Narcoses said with an air of weary sophistication. Had he done this kind of thing before I wondered? I folded my arms and stepped back.
“Much better. Although I am a lawyer licensed to practice on this planet, I am also a representative of the Galactic League.”
“Wonderful. The Paskonjakians want to drown me—you poison me. I thought this was a galaxy of peace?”
“You are wasting time. I am here to free you, under certain conditions. The League has need of a criminal. One who is both skilled and reliable. Which is an oxymoron. You have proved your criminalistic ability by your almost-successful theft. The poison guarantees your reliability. Do I assume that you will cooperate? At the minimum you have a life extension of thirty days.”
“Yes, sure, you’re on. Not that I have a choice.”
“You don’t.” He looked at the watch set into his little fingernail and stepped aside as the door opened. A chubby, bearded youth came in with a sheaf of papers.
“Excellent,” Narcoses said. “You have the will?” The young man nodded. The door was closed and sealed again.
“Five minutes,” Narcoses said.
The newcomer pulled down a zipper that sealed his one-piece suit. Took off the suit—and a lot of flesh with it. The suit was padded. He was not fat at all, but lean and muscular quite like me. When he peeled off the fake beard I realized that he looked exactly like me. I blinked rapidly as I stared at my own face.
“Only four minutes left diGriz. Put on the suit. I’ll fix the beard.”
The well-built and handsome stranger pulled on my discarded robe. Stepped aside when Narcoses took a key from his pocket, bent and unlocked the restraining cuff on my ankle. Handed it to the other who emotionlessly bent and snapped it to his own ankle.
“Why—why are you doing this?” I asked him.
He said nothing, just leaned over to retrieve the gun.
“I’ll need another bullet,” he said. With my voice.
“The Colonel will supply it,” Narcoses said. Then I remembered something else he had said just moments ago.
“You called me diGriz. You know my name!”
“I know a lot more than that,” he said pressing the beard and mustache into position on my face. “Carry these papers. Follow me out of here. Keep your mouth shut.”
All of which I was very happy to do. With one last look at my imprisoned self I trotted forth to freedom.
CHAPTER 3
I trotted behind Narcoses, clutching the papers and trying to think bearded and fat. The guards were ignoring us, watching instead with sadistic fascination as one of their number started to close the watertight door.
“Wait,” the Colonel said, opening a small box and taking out a cartridge. He looked up as I passed, stared me straight in the face. I felt per
spiration bursting from my pores. The momentary glance must have lasted about a subjective hour. Then he kept on turning and called out to the guard.
“Open that again you idiot! I load the gun then you close the door. When that has been done this business will be over with once and for all.”
We turned a corner and the noxious group vanished from sight behind us. Silently, as ordered, I followed the lawyer through many a guarded portal, into an elevator, out of it and then through one final door, escaping the Mint at last. Letting out a great sigh of relief as we went past the armed guards and headed for the waiting ground car.
“I—”
“Silence! Into the car. Speak to me in the office about a salary raise—not before.”
Narcoses must know things that I didn’t. Detector bugs in the ornamental trees we were passing? Acoustic microphones aimed our way? I realized now that my carefully planned crime had apparently been a disaster from the moment I had conceived it.
The driver was silent as a tomb—and about as attractive. I watched the buildings stream by, then the outskirts of the city appeared. We drove on until we reached a small building in a leafy suburb. The front door opened as we approached, then closed behind us apparently without human intervention. The same thing happened to the inner door which was tastefully labeled with jewel-studded gold letters PEDERASIS NARCOSES—Attorney at Laws. It closed silently and I wheeled about and pointed a menacing finger at him.
“You knew about me even before I landed on this planet.”
“Of course. As soon as your false credentials were filed the investigation began.”
“So you stood by and let me plot and plan and commit a crime and get sentenced to death—without making any attempt to interfere?”
“That’s right.”
“That’s criminal! More of a crime than my crime.”
“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—”
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