The Stainless Steel Rat for President ssr-5

by Harry Harrison

  “Good. Now, for the record. I was given a book by someone I had never seen before, I have not seen this person since, so I could not have received any information from her, ~l don’t know who she is or why she contacted me. Period. End of statement. Now get my clothes because I am getting out of here.” I stood and faced him in silence. His expression did not change, but I could see an artery throbbing furiously in his temple. He was possessed with anger-but he was smart. He had to kill me or let me go. That was all the choice he had and he knew it. When he finally spoke it was in a low and controlled voice. But I believed every word that he said.

  “I’m releasing you. You will be returned to your hotel and you will pack your bags. My men will stay with you. They will take you and your wife to the space terminal to leave on the next flight. You will go away and you will never come back. Because if you do return to this planet I will kill you on sight. You are involved in something dirty here. I don’t know what it is-nor do I care. Do you understand me?” “Perfectly, Captain. And I want to leave this planet just as much as you want me to go.” However I didn’t add that I wanted to come back just as strongly. The captain and I were going. to meet again.

  Chapter 6

  Angelina and I had no chance to speak together until we were in deep space. Before that, lowbrowed policemen were thick about us at all times, lacking over our shoulders as we packed, then whisking us away as soon as the bags were closed. The departure of a cruise ship was held for over an hour until we arrived. It took off as soon as we were aboard. Once the acceleration was over I poured myself some hundredproof nerve tonic, then used the detector in the camera to sweep our cabin; it was clear of bugs.

  “It’s clean,” I said. “Did you make the midnight meet?” “You told me that you were contacted by one of the locals.” Angelina’s voice was chilled to about four degrees Kelvin. “You forgot to mention that this local was also a highly attractive and concupiscent young woman. “ “My love! You wrong me. I saw her for a few moments only. Nothing more!” “There better be nothing more. I know all about your over-sexed libido, Jim diGriz. Lay one finger on her and I’ll cut it off.” “Agreed, not a finger. Now please tell me what happened.” “I took the walk along the beach. She was hidden at the edge of the jungle. She called to me, asked me if I had read the note. I repeated the message and let her know that you were otherwise engaged. So she told me the story. Her name is Flavia and she is a member of what she admits is a poorly organized resistance movement. They are powerless to even protest. As fast as they organize they are penetrated and captured. Imprisoned or killed. Their only hope is to make their plight known to the galaxy at large.” “I’m afi-aid the galaxy already knows-and doesn’t really care.” “I neglected to tell her that. She was so happy that I would be taking their message to other worlds. Five pages of it. She 30 was very impressed when I memorized it after reading it once. “ “In the dark?” “Shut up. It was written in luminescent ink. And very depressing reading it made too. One of the reasons that the other planets don’t care about politics here is because the government superficially appears to be a democracy. Every four years there is an election for president. The only thing wrong with this arrangement is that the election is rigged and General-President Julio Zapilote always gets reelected. He is serving his forty-first term now... “ “He must be two hundred years old!” “He is. Geriatric treatments. He is backed by a bunch of military thugs who keep the population in line. A typically polarized situation with all the power concentrated in his hands. A few very rich at the top who run everything, with the starving and practically enslaved masses at the bottom. With a small middle class in between.” “That has to change,” I said, pacing the cabin and thinking rapidly.

  “I agree. But it won’t be easy.” “Everything is easy for the man who saved the universe!” “Twice,” she reminded me.

  “That’s the truth. I am going to go back there...” “Say we. The boys and I need a holiday too.” “We, of course, my love. And your two strapping sons as well. Did Flavia give you any reason why they tried to contact me?” “The guide, Jorge, told them about you and your interest in the workings of their society. “ “Fine. If we have to contact them again we can do it through Jorge. And contact them we will! A man was killed trying to bring me a message about their planet. And having seen the planet I can understand why. I intend to go back there. And in addition I have a score to settle with a certain Captain Oliveira, the one who arrested me.” She frowned murderously. “If he touched a single hair on your head I’ll kill him. Painfully.” “Wonderful wife! Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the captain. You can concentrate on freeing the rest of the planet.” “Sounds like a good idea. Do you have any idea of how you are going to do it?” “No. But that has never stonned me in the nast. We will equip ourselves and return and I’m sure that I will think of something.” “Shall we invade them? Get a mercenary army together?” “Something a little more subtle is in order. We’ll bore from within, as a stainless steel rat should. And I already have some ideas how we are going to do that!” Needless to say, the twins were delighted by the idea. James was leading a zoological expedition to capture poisonous specimens on the fog-shrouded, horror-planet Veniola that creeps in its orbit around the ghoulish star Hernia. As soon as word reached him he caged his last specimen and headed home at full blast. He arrived just a little ahead of Bolivar who had been doing research into prison reform. He had been imprisoned in the escape-proof prison on Helior, from which he instantly escaped when my message was smuggled to him. Young appetites always need nourishment, so I waited patiently as they consumed one of their mother’s excellent nine-course meals before they joined me in my study. “There is something about you different. Dad,” James said.

  “Very observant, brother,” Bolivar said. “Seeing as how our dad now has dark skin, black hair and moustache, dark eyes, a new jaw and different cheekbones.” “And also speaks a new language,” I said in perfect Espanol.

  “Sounds nice,” James said. “Easy to understand, a little like Esperanto.” “By morning you will have splitting headaches and be speaking it yourselves. A few hours with the language indoctrinator will jam it into your skulls.” “Then what? Thanks Morn,” Bolivar said added as Angelina brought a tray with filled wine glasses into the room.

  “Then we are off to Paraiso-Aqui where they ferment this fine wine.” We all sipped and smacked our lips with pleasure. “The name of this world means Paradise Here, and we will see if we can’t make that name come true at last.” “How?” Angelina asked, and not for the first time.

  “I’ll think of something when we are on the spot. Meanwhile I have made plans to return there in style. If you will look at that...” I pressed the button that rolled up the wall, revealing the adjoining workshop. A large and rather battered touring car was revealed.

  “Doesn’t look like much,” the ever-truthful Bolivar said. “Thank you. That was my intent. It is an exact duplicate of a car I photographed on Paraiso-Aqui. Resembling the original in every detail...” “But containing a number of details the original never contained!” James said.

  “Smart lad. Careful! Don’t press any buttons or switch any switches until I have explained how they work. The real vehicles like this on Paraiso-Aqui are powered by something called an infernal combustion engine. It is unbelievably complicated and inefficient. Good sugar cane is wasted to make ethyl alcohol, instead of being used sensibly to produce ron, which is then poured into one end of the engine. Water vapor and poisonous gas come out of the other. Horrible. Therefore our car is powered by a small atomic engine. This also energizes the lasers built into the headlights, powers the gun positions, works the radar to aim the mortars. You know the sort of things.” “We certainly do!” Angeli’na said, smiling happily. “What is the next step?” “Final preparations. In two days we will all be rested and refreshed, darker of skin and hair, and speaking Espanol with a native fluency. A Special Corps spacer, with all of the latest electronic detection and a
voidance gear, will pick up us and our car and transfer us to Paraiso-Aqui. They will leave us there, alone and defenseless...” “Hardly!” Bolivar said.

  “... thousands of light-years from the nearest friendly planet. Four lost souls against an entire world. Four friendless people pitted against the might of a planet-wide dictatorship. I feel sorry for them...” “Do you mean the dictatorship, not us?” Angelina asked.

  “Of course! The wine then. We drink to their downfall and the beeinnine of a new life for Paraiso-Aaui.”

  Chapter 7

  Even I, hardened by a thousand battles and even more close calls, had to admit that I experienced a sudden stab of the old angst when I watched the Corps battle cruiser lift up silently into the night. It is one thing to sit in your own home, glass in hand, and brag about how great you are. It is quite another thing altogether to be dumped on an inhospitable planet with all your loved ones and every man’s hand turned against you. Were we doomed? If so I was responsible. “Well Dad...” Bolivar said.

  “... the fun’s about to begin!” James added, finishing his twin’s sentence for him. They laughed together and slapped me on the back, which staggered me a bit and also dragged me out of my fit of depression. We could do it! We would do it!

  “You’re absolutely right, boys. Here we go!” James opened the rear door of the touring car for his mother, while Bolivar, decked out in chauffeur’s uniform, climbed into the front seat and started the engine. It was a cloudless night and the starlight was bright enough for us to see our way. I joined Angelina while James climbed into the front seat beside his brother. He wore the white suit and black string tie of a minor functionary. While Angelina and I were dressed in the finery of the wealthy, copied faithfully from photographs taken from the guide books. Bolivar put on dark glasses, kicked the car into gear, and we shot off into the darkness.

  Of course his glasses were sensitive to ultraviolet. And the headlights, while apparently turned off, were nevertheless radiating great beams of ultraviolet light. It was disconcerting, yet strangely exciting, to hurtle through the night like this.

  “The ground here is hard stone all the way. Dad,” Bolivar said. “Just the way you planned. We’ll leave no tracks, just in 34 case the authorities saw the ship land and come to investigate. And the road is right ahead. Empty. Hold on, it’s going to be bumpy going across the shoulder. “ We slithered and joggled our way up onto the road, which turned out to be smooth and well-paved. The car picked up speed as it hurtled along in darkness through the night.

  “Turn on the lights after we get around the next bend,” I said. “We will then become legitimate citizenry out for a spin.” “How far do you want us to spin?” he asked.

  “As far as the coast. If we get there early we’ll rest a bit, then go on after dawn. I don’t want to reach the resort until after daylight. Once there we’ll find some place for breakfast before we proceed with the next step of the plan.” We had the road to ourselves for the most part. An occasional car passed in the opposite direction, but there were no signs of any alarm. I took a bottle of champagne from the cooler and Angelina and I drank a toast to success. I then switched the television on to a recorded symphony and we zoomed on through the night, if not in the lap of luxury at least in the car of content. By maintaining a stately and steady speed we reached the coast just as day was breaking, then turned onto the road to the resort. They were early risers here and already the peasantry were on their way to the fields. They drew aside at our approach, bowing and saluting, which attentions we ignored in the proper manner. Warm sunlight sparkled on the water as we drove majestically along the waterfront.

  “There,” Angelina said. “The outdoor restaurant right on the shore. The waiters are setting the tables. It looks perfect.” “As indeed it is. Bolivar, let us off there, park the car where we can keep an eye on it, then take a table at an appropriate distance.” There is nothing like being rich in a place where everyone else is poor. It helps the service no end. Our arrival was noted and the restaurant manager himself hurried out, “Welcome, welcome Your Honor and Lady!” he said, opening the car door himself. “A table, yes, this one, at your service. Your slightest wish is my command.” “A light for my cigar,” I sneered, taking a long black cheroot from my case. Three waiters fought for the privilege of lighting it; tiny flames flared. I puffed smoke, dropped into a chair, and pushed my wide-brimmed hat back on my head. Angelina sat down demurely opposite me. “This is the life,” I sighed.

  “You’re a born fascist,” Angelina said under her breath. “We are here to save these people from being trampled under, not to glory in the trampling ourselves.” “I know. But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves before the trampling has to stop. Just because we’re on a sinking ship it doesn’t mean we have to travel in steerage. First class all the way! And about time too,” I added, taking the menu from the trembling waiter.

  Some while later, stomach happily full, I was enjoying a cigar with my third cup of Jich black coffee, looking out casually at the passing parade. Then I dropped my cigar onto the ground and snapped my fingers in James’s direction. As he came hurrying over, radiating fearful employee in a satisfactory manner, I took out a fresh cheroot.

  “Light this!” I ordered, then spoke in a quieter voice when he bent over. “When you turn around take a look at the man in the green shirt talking to the three fat tourists. Our luck is holding because that is Jorge, our contact. Follow him. Find out where he goes.” “No trouble. Papa. He’ll never know he’s being tailed. “ As he turned away, Angelina leaned close and said, “Dear one, if you now will glance to your right you will see that trouble is on the way.” I glanced-and indeed it was on the way. Two sordid types, dressed in plain clothes but radiating authority, had stopped to talk to the young couple sitting at the first table. The diners produced papers which the thugs looked through carefully. They were obviously checking for identification. Which posed an interesting problem for us since we didn’t have any.

  “Angelina,” I said as I snapped my fingers for the waiter, “you are most observant. Get Bolivar and go to the car while I pay up here. Pick me up at the curb.” The waiters were fast but the police thugs were even faster. They went by the next two tables, obviously occupied by off-planet tourists, and approached me just as I was throwing handfuls of money onto the bill.

  “If you please, your honor, you have identification papers?” the smaller and slimmer one said.

  I looked him up and down in slow and arrogant silence, waiting until he broke into a cold sweat before I spoke.

  “Of course I have identification papers.” I turned away and stepped to the curb as the touring car rolled ponderously up. It might have worked. It didn’t this time. His voice quavered tremulously behind me.

  “Would you be so kind as to show them to me, if you please.” The car was close-but not close enough. I turned back and fixed him with a basilisk gaze. “What is your name?” I growled.

  “Viladelmas Pujol, your eminence...” “I’ll say this just once, Pujol. I do not talk to policemen on the street. Nor do I show them papers. Leave me.” He turned away instantly, but his large partner was made of sterner-or stupider-stuff.

  “We will be pleased to accompany you to the Commissioner of Police, your excellency. He will be most happy to welcome you to our city.” It was time to think fast. This repulsive little scene had been going on for far too long and would draw attention soon. There was no point in attempting to flee in the car; they could see its registration number and could identity us. So I thought fast and, within a split second, devised a highly satisfactory plan just as the car pulled up and stopped beside us.

  “How very kind of you to offer.” I smiled and they relaxed and smiled as well, with some relief. “As a stranger here I do not know my way. So you will accompany me in my luxurious vehicle and instruct my driver.” “Thank you! Thank you!” It was all smiles and good will as we climbed in; I’m sure they would have kissed my hand had I but extended it.
Bolivar pressed the proper button and the jump seats dropped down into position. They dropped their {at rumps gingerly onto the hand-tooled leather, facing us, as the car started forward smoothly.

  “Kindly instruct my driver,” I said, then turned to Angelina. “These kind policemen are escorting us to meet their Commissioner who wishes to greet us.” “Charming,” she said, lifting one eyebrow delicately.

  “Straight ahead, then right at the third turning,” Pujol coirl “All friends together,” I said, smiling at them and they beamed back with pleasure. “Or as the great poet wrote, ‘Kiom me kalkulos al tri, vi endormigos vian malbonulon kaj mi endormigos mwn. ’ “ Which as any first year Esperanto student knows means “When I count to three, you put your thug to sleep and I’ll take care of mine.” “I’m not much on poetry, excellency,” Pujol said.

  “Then I’ll teach you some right now. It’s as easy as one, two, three...” I leaned over and took Pujol by the throat and squeezed hard. He bulged his eyes, gaped, thrashed a bit, then collapsed. Angelina, who dislikes police of any kind, had been more dramatic. She had extended one shapely leg and kicked the big one in the stomach. When he had folded forward, a quick chop to the exposed nape of his neck had dropped him at her feet.