The Stainless Steel Rat Gets Drafted ssr-7

by Harry Harrison

  League Navy was after us for gunrunning. He paid us off here—and the next day I was arrested. He tipped them off and planted the kewarghen in my bag. With that evidence they busted me on a drugs charge, selling to the natives and all that. I want to kill him.”

  “So do I—for causing the death of my friend. But why did he want you arrested?”

  “Revenge. I lacked him out of bed. He was too kinky for my liking.”

  I gulped and coughed and took a long slug of wine and hoped that she wouldn’t notice that I was blushing. She didn’t. Her eyes, still glazed with anger, stared past me into space. “Kill him, I really would like to kill him. I know that it’s impossible but, oh how he deserves it,”

  “Why impossible?” I asked with some relief, glad to have the conversation back on comfortable topics like murder and revenge.

  “Why? What do you know about this planet, Jim?”

  “Nothing. Other than its name, Steren-Gwandra.” -“Urhich means planet in the local lingo. They are not a linguistically imaginative lot. At least those here in Brastyr aren’t. Like many other settled planets this one was cut off from galactic contact during the breakdown years. Brastyr, this continent, has few natural resources and over the centuries they managed to lose all of the old technology. They are so dim that most of them forgot Esperanto. Not the traders though, they had to deal with the offshore island. By the time that galactic contact was reestablished the locals had sunk into a sort of agricultural semi-feudalism.”

  “Like Spiovente?”

  “Not quite. Just offshore is this damned great island I mentioned, separated from this mainland by a narrow strait. Almost all of the minerals, coal and oil in this hemisphere are located there. That’s why it was settled first and why it was well developed before the second wave of immigrants arrived during the diaspora ages. None of the newcomers were allowed to settle there. Not that they cared, this entire continent was wide-open and bountiful and the arrangement suited all parties concerned.

  Industry and technology over there on Nevenkebia, farming and forestry here. I doubt if anything changed much during the breakdown years—1 imagine the relationship was intensified if anything. That’s why we are never going to get close enough to Garth to kill him.”

  “I don’t understand. What has this got to do with him?”

  “He’s on the island. Unreachable.” She sighed and rubbed her fingertip in circles in the pool of spilled wine. I was still puzzled.

  “But Garth is a Venian, like you. The captain of a Venian ship. Why should they protect him?”

  “Because he’s not Venidh, that’s why. The Nevenkebia military bought the ship, he commanded it. We were happy to go along with the plan, they paid well. Venians are very flexible when it comes to money. But he is really something big in the military there. They run the place. All those guns we were smuggling were made on the island. It was a good racket, plenty of ofiplanet currency. But when the League Navy got too close they paid us off and closed the operation down. There is just no way to get at him on that island.”

  “I’ll find a way. ”

  “I hope that you do. I’ll give you all the help that I can. But first things first, Jim. We will have to stay out of sight for a bit while they are looking for us—and that will take a pile of Arghans. How much do you have?”

  She spread out the coins she had stolen and I added mine to the pile.

  “Not enough. We need a lot for bribes, a safe place to get out of sight. I have contacts, a fence I used to peddle to. For the right price we can have him find a safe house…”

  “No. Avoid the criminal classes at all counts. Too expensive and the first place that the authorities will look. Do they have hotels here? Expensive, luxurious hotels?”

  “Not as such. But there are ostelyow where traveling gentry put up. But ofiworlders never go there.”

  “Even better. Can you pass as a native?”

  “Yredy. You could too with a little effort. There are so many different accents and dialects here that no one will notice.’”

  “Ideal. Let us then instantly steal a lot .of money, buy some expensive clothes and jewelry and check in at the best ostel. Agreed?”

  “Agreed!” She laughed out loud and clapped her hands together. “I swear, Jim, you are a breath of fresh air on this fetid planet. I like your style. But it won’t be easy. They don’t have banks here. All the cash is held by moneylenders called hoghas. Their places are like small forts. Plenty of guards, always from the moneylender’s own family so they can’t be bribed.”

  “Sounds good. Let’s go check one out. Then we will go back tonight and crack it.”

  “Do you mean it?”

  “Never more serious.”

  “I’ve never met anyone, like you. You look like a kid—but you can really take care of yourself.”

  I did not like that kid remark but I stayed shut up and tried not to pout while she made plans.

  “We’ll take some of these Arghans, change them for Nevenkebia coins. This will take a lot of arguing over rate of exchange so you will have time to look around. I’ll do the talking. You just carry the money and keep your mouth shut. We’ll get you a bodyguard’s club first, then they’ll never even notice you.”

  “No time like the present. Let’s find a club shop.” This was easily enough done. Most of the side streets were open markets, with stalls and tiny shops that sold an apparently endless variety of cloth, fruit, meals wrapped in leaves, knives, saddles, tents—and clubs. While the merchant extolled the value of his wares, muffledly and incomprehensively through the layers of cloth about his face and neck, I hefted the samples and tested their swing. I finally settled on a meter length of tough wood that was bound about with iron bands.

  “This looks like what we want,” I told Bibs. The weapon vendor nodded and took the coins and muttered some more. Bibs pointed inside.

  “He insists that a year guarantee goes with every club and you must try it out before you leave.”

  The testing block proved to be a large upright stone that had been carved into human form, what might at one time have resembled a man in armor. But years of testing had taken their toll. Gouges, nicks and missing chunks defaced it; noseless, chinless with a single fragment of ear remaining. I hefted my club, tried a few practice swings—then stood with my back to the stone while I psyched up my muscles with some dynamic-tension contractions and a breathing mantra. I was chuffing as nicely as a Spiovente steam wagon, holding the clOb upright, when I felt ready.

  Timed release, that’s the secret. Not a secret really, just technique and practice. A single shout contracted my body all in an instant. In time with the sound I swung about with all of my weight and strength focused on the iron band on the end of the club. It whistled through a half-circle that terminated on the side of the rock head.

  There was a ringing crack as the neck shattered and the stone head fell off. The club was still sound and the iron ring had a slight nick.

  “This one will do,” I said, as offhandedly as I could.

  They were both very impressed, let me tell you. I was impressed myself. It had been a good blow, better than I had realized.

  “Do you do that often?” Bibs asked in a hushed voice.

  “If I have to,” I said with a calm I did not feel. “Now take me to your hogh.”

  We found one just a few streets away, the identity of the business made known by a skeleton in an iron cage above the door.

  “Some sign,” I said. “You would think they would hang out a painting of a money bag or a wooden Arghans,”

  “This is more practical. That is the last thief they caught trying to steal from them.”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  “It’s just a tradition, don’t let it disturb you.” Easy enough for her to say—-she wasn’t going to rob this place. Disturbed, I followed her past two ugly weightlifters who leaned on their spears and scowled at us.

  “Hogh,” Bibs said, sniffing with disdain at the guards. They
muttered something not too nice, but still knocked on the iron-bound door until it creaked open. Inside were more guardians from the same mould. Except these had swords. The door slammed shut and was locked behind us as we passed through a dark room into the courtyard beyond. There were spikes—as well as more guards—on the surrounding wall. Not a wall, really, but the roof of the buildings that surrounded the courtyard. The hogh himself sat on a large chest, shielded from the sun by a canopy, guarded by two more men—this time armed with pikes. The chest had a flat top and was covered with pillows.

  “I suppose he sleeps on it at night,” I said, a feeble joke to build the morale,

  “Of course,” Bibs said and the morale slumped even lower.

  The moneylender was all smarmy, gestures and oily voice. Bibs jingled our money at him and he smarmed even more. At the clap of his hands assistants cleared the pillows away and opened the lid of the chest. I looked in and the guards looked at me. It was neatly divided into sections and each section was filled with leather bags. More orders and handclapping produced a bag that was placed on top of the now reclosed chest. He sat back onto the lid with a happy sigh and cradled the bag in his lap, opened it and let a trickle of shining coins run through his fingers. The haggling began and I feigned boredom and looked around at the courtyard.

  This was not going to be easy, not easy at all. The entrance door would certainly be sealed and guarded. If I came over the wall there were those spikes—and more guards as well. Then what? Sneak down into the courtyard and tip the old boy off into the dust, grab the bag. And get speared, stabbed, clubbed and so forth. Not an attractive proposition at all. We were going to have to get a new plan to raise funds. I could see no way to get into this place; brute strength was far more efficient than technology in this setup. And say I got in, say I lifted the loot—there was the little matter of getting out with it. Though that might not be too difficult …

  I felt the glimmerings of an idea and held onto them and stirred them about. Keeping my expression as calm and stony as possible, with just a hint of a snarl as I looked at the guards, who snarled back. Negotiations were progressing well with plenty of wails of grief and snorts of disdain from both sides. I was only barely aware of this as I rough-fashioned my plan, ran it around and polished it a bit, then took it through slowly, step by step, to see if it would work. Given a little bit of luck it would. Was it the only plan? I sighed inwardly. Yes, all things considered, it was the only plan. I swung my club impatiently and called out to Bibs.

  “Come on lady, don’t take all day.” She turned about and scowled.

  “What did you say?”

  “You heard me. You came to the bodyguard hiring hall and promised good pay for a short day. But the pay ain’t that good and the day is too long.”

  If the hogh didn’t understand Esperanto the plan would stop there. But I could see his ears perk up, listening and understanding everything we said. Bash on—no turning back now. Bibs didn’t know what I was doing, but she was smart enough to play along, taking umbrage at my insults.

  “Listen you muscle-bound moron—I can hire better than you for half the price. I don’t need the static from a malbonulo whose eyebrows meet in the middle!”

  “That does it!” I shouted. “I don’t take that from no one!”

  I swung my club at her in a wicked blow that just brushed her hair. It didn’t touch her—so I let the butt end follow through with a light tap on the forehead that dropped her to the ground. With Bibs safely out of the picture I would now see if I could get away with what is usually referred to as a smash-and-grab.

  My club swung again and knocked down one of the poles that held up the canopy. I stepped forward as it fell and chopped the hogh on the side of the neck as the cloth engulfed us.

  Fast now, Jim. You have seconds—or less. I groped the bag of coins out of his lap and stuffed them inside my shirt. It wouldn’t fit until I spilled some out. Seconds. Gone.

  There was plenty of shouting now and struggling with the cloth. I pulled myself free—and walked away, calling back over my shoulder.

  “I quit, lady. Get another bodyguard. Only poofters work for women anyway.”

  Two paces, three, four. The armed men looking from me to the heaving canopy as the guards there pulled it free. One of them emerged, dragging the unconscious hogh, shouting and screaming with anger. I did not need a translation. All of the other guards howled in rage and ran toward me.

  I turned tail and ran in the opposite direction. Away from the only exit.

  But toward the flight of wooden stairs that ran up to the roof.

  The single guard there stabbed at me with his spear. I parried it with the club and kicked him hard where it would make the best impression. Jumped his falling body and bounded up the stairs two at a time and almost impaled myself on the sword of the man standing at the top. All I could do was dive under it, roll, crash into his legs and bring him down.

  Catching him on the head with the butt of the club as I scrambled to my feet, coins jingling down about me.

  Three other guards on the roof were screeching and lumbering toward me. I ran to the edge, looked at the drop, cursed aloud. The cobbled street was too far below. If I jumped I would break a leg. Turned and threw my club at the first of the attackers. It caught him nicely and the second man ran into him.

  I saw no more because I was over the roof, holding onto the edge with both hands and letting myself down. Looking up at the third guard who was bringing his sword down on my hands.

  I let go. Dropped. Hit and rolled. My ankle hurt but I did not even think about it. Spears and clubs cracked to the ground around me as I hobbled away, around the first corner and into a market street. Hobbling slower and slower as the howls behind me faded in the distance.

  Around another corner where I stopped for breath, panting and wheezing. Then staggered on deeper into the city until I was sure I had lost my pursuers.

  I dropped into a chair of the first bar and actually enjoyed drinking a mug of the terrible beer.

  Chapter 4

  The bag of coins sat uncomfortably on my stomach, straining the fabric of my prison jacket. I looked at the drab cloth with the big red arrows on it and realized that I was being kind of stupid. By now my description would have gone out and all the hogh minions would be looking for me. I would not be that hard to find. As I hammered on the table with a coin I felt the sweat beginning to form on my forehead.

  At the sight of the Nevenkebia currency the waiter’s eyes lit up and he seized it with shaking fingers and carried it away reverently. I received a great handful of Arghans in exchange, surely I was being cheated, still I scuttled away happily. Scuttled into the first shop I found that had garments displayed around the entrance. Esperanto was spoken badly here, but good enough to enable me to buy some baggy trousers and a cloak, along with a wicker basket to conceal the money bag. Feeling safe, at least for the moment, I shambled deeper into the city. Through the busy streets to a market where I purchased a widebrimmed leather hat with a colorful plume. Bit by bit I bought other clothes, until I was garbed anew, the basket with my prison clothes discarded, the money now safe in an elegant shoulder bag. By this time it was getting dark and I was completely lost.

  And worried about Bibs. I had done all that I could to assure her safety, to distance her from myself and my crime. Had it been enough? I felt a quick surge of guilt and the need to contact her. Easier said than done. First I must find the League building, my only point of reference, and work back from there.

  It was dusk by the time I located it—and I was getting very, very tired. Yet there was no choice, I must go on. Following the route the horse conveyance had taken with Bibs and her captors, finding the corner where we had emerged from it. From there it was easy enough to get to the restaurant where we hSd eaten, to drop into a chair with a sigh of relief. I could only hope now that she remembered the place and would think of coming here. I took off my hat and a hot band of pain circled my throat.

&
nbsp; “Traitor,” Bibs’s voice hissed in my ear as I gurgled and gnoped but could reach nothing. Was this the end… ?

  It almost was. I was sinking into unconsciousness before the pain eased and the length of wire fell into my lap. I rubbed my sore, bleeding neck as Bibs pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. She weighed my shoulder bag, then looked inside. She had a black eye and some bruises around her mouth.

  “I could have killed you,” she said. “I was that angry, that was what I was going to do. But when I saw you had brought the money I realized you had planned the whole thing this way and had come here to meet me. But since they had worked me over I felt I owed you some of the same. I’ll order some wine.”

  “Planned…” I croaked, then coughed. “Knocked you out—so they would think you weren’t in on the robbery.”

  “It worked—or I wouldn’t be here. They hashed me about a bit, then they all ran out after you. I went right behind them in the confusion. Just wandered around and stayed out of sight until dark. Hating you. I had no money, nothing. Other than this black eye. You’re lucky I didn’t throttle you all the way.”

  “Thanks,” I said, then glugged down half a mug of wine when the waiter set it in front of me. “It was the only thing I could do. While you Cfrere talking to the old boy I looked at the defenses. There was no way in past them. But since we were already inside I saw that there was a good chance of getting out. So I took the money.”

  “Tremendous. You might have told me.”

  “There was no way to.. Knocking you out was the only thing I could think of that would not get you involved. I’m sorry—but it worked. ”

  Bibs actually smiled as she ran her fingers through the coins. “You are right, Jim my boy. It was worth a few bruises to get this much loot. Now let’s get moving. You’ve changed clothes and I must do the same thing.”

  “Then to the best ostel in town.”

  “For a hot bath and a real meal. You’re on!” The ostel was a sprawling building hidden behind high walls. Suites of rooms led off the central courtyard and we had the best, if the bowing and dry handwashing of the help meant anything. The wine was chilled and the finest I had ever tasted. I prowled around the carpeted rooms and nibbled the toasted tidbits that came with the wine, while Bibs burbled and splashed in the adjoining pool. She eventually emerged wrapped in a towel, glowing with health and growling with hunger. There was no nonsense about dining rooms or restaurants in this establishment. Servants brought the food on brass trays and we gorged ourselves. When they had cleaned up the leavings I threw the bolt in the outer door and filled Bibs’s crystal mug with more wine.