The Stainless Steell Rat Sings the Blues ssr-8

by Harry Harrison

  “Let’s hear it for the good guys!” I had an audience of one, myself, which made the victory no less sweet. The sleep gas had hit my friends as well, though Floyd had been doing quite well before he dropped. A number of crumpled bodies were collapsed around him. I opened my pack and got the gas antidote, one by one I shot up my companions with the styrette. Then went to the door and stared gloomily out at the rain until they revived.

  Soft footsteps behind me and Madonette held me lightly by the arms.

  “Thanks, Jim.”

  “Was nothing.”

  “It was something. You saved our lives.”

  “We’re still in it,” Floyd said. “And like Madonette said, we owe you a good bit of thanks.” Steengo nodded agreement.

  “I wish you didn’t. If this operation had been planned better all these emergencies wouldn’t be taking place. My fault. I’m under what you might call a certain kind of time pressure. For reasons I can’t go into right now we have to find the artifact and finish this operation within twenty days.”

  “That’s not much time,” Steengo said.

  “Right-so let’s not waste any of it. Our welcome has worn out around here. Grab weapons because we might have trouble getting out of town empty-handed. Packs on, armed to kill, ruthless and deadly expressions. Forward!”

  After what had almost happened to us with Svinjar and his macho swinemen we were in no mood to be trifled with. It must have shown in our faces-or more likely in the metal of our weapons-because the few people we met slipped away as soon as they saw us. The rain had almost stopped and the sun was burning through and raising trails of mist from the waterlogged ground. The hovels were farther apart now, the mounds of garbage fewer and more easily avoided. Straggly little bushes began to appear, then trees and larger shrubs covering the easy slope of the rolling hills. Mixed in were low bushes from which hung hard-skinned spheres the size of a man’s fist. Maybe these were the polpettone trees we had been told about. This would have to be investigated-but not now. I led on at a good pace, not calling a halt until we had reached the concealment of the first coppice. I looked back at the crude buildings, with the great bulk of the Pentagon rising behind them.

  “No one seems to be following us-so let’s keep it that way. Five-minute break every hour, keep walking until sunset.”

  I touched the skull-computer hanging from my neck and the keyboard snapped into existence. I summoned up the holomap, glanced up at the sun-then pointed ahead.

  “We go thataway.”

  It was tiring at first, struggling up one hill and down the other side, then up again. But we soon left the trees and the rolling countryside behind and marched out onto a grassy plain. We stopped for a break at the end of the first hour, dropped down and drank some water. The bravest of us chewed industriously on the concentrated rations. Which had the texture of cardboard-if not the same exciting flavor. There was a grove of the polpettone trees close by and I went and picked a few of the spherical fruits. Hard as rocks and looking just about as appetizing. I put them into my pack for later examination. Floyd had dug a small flute out of his pack and played a little jig that lifted our spirits. When we stepped out again it was to a jolly marching tune.

  Madonette walked beside me, humming in time with the flute. A strong walker, she seemed to be enjoying the effort. And surely a great singer, good voice. Good everything-and that included her bod. She turned and caught me looking at her and smiled. I looked away, slowed a bit to walk next to Steengo for a change. He was keeping up with the rest of us and did not look tired I was happy to see. Ahh, Madonette… Think of something else, Jim, keep your eye on the job. Not the girl. Yes, I know, she looked a lot better than anything else around. But this was no time to go all smarmy and dewy-eyed.

  “How long you think until dark?” Steengo asked. “That pill you gave me is wearing off with a vengeance.”

  I projected a holo of a watch. “I truly don’t know-because I don’t even know the length of the day here. This watch, like the computer, is on ship’s time. It’s been a good long time since they threw us out the gate.” I squinted at the sky. “And I don’t think that sun has moved very much at all. Time to ask for some advice.”

  I bit down three times hard on the left side of my jaw, which should have triggered a signal on the jawbone radio.

  “Tremearne here.” The words bounced around clearly inside my skull.

  “I read you.”

  “You read what?” Steengo asked.

  “Please – I’m talking on the radio.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Reception clear at this end. Report.”

  “We were less than charmed by the Machmen. We left town a couple of hours ago and are hiking out across the plain…”

  “I have you on the chart, satellite location.”

  “Any of the Fundamentaloid bands in sight as well?”

  “A number of them.”

  “Any of them close to this position?”

  “Yes, one off to your left. Roughly the same distance you’ve walked already.”

  “Sounds a winner. But one important question first. How long are the days here?”

  “About one hundred standard hours.”

  “No wonder we’re beginning to feel tired-and it’s still full daylight. With the total daylight at least four times longer than what we’re used to. Can you put your satellite to work looking back the way we came-to see if we are being followed?”

  “I’ve already done that. No pursuers in sight.”

  “That’s great news. Over and out.” I raised my voice. “Company-halt. Fall out. I’ll give you the other side of the conversation that you didn’t hear. We’re not being followed.” I waited until the ragged cheer had died away. “Which means we are stopping here for food, drink, sleep, the works.”

  I slung my pack to the ground, stretched largely, then dropped down and leaned against it, pointed to the distant horizon. “The Fundamentaloid nomads are somewhere out in that direction. We are going to have to find them sooner or later-and I vote for later.”

  “Vote seconded, motion passed.” They were all horizontal now. I took a good swig of water before I went on.

  “The days here are four times as long as the ones that we are used to. I think that we have had enough of fighting, walking, everything for one day, or a quarter of a day, or whatever. Let’s sleep on it and go on when we are rested.”

  My advice was unneeded since eyelids were already closing. I could do no less myself and was drifting off when I realized this was not the world’s greatest idea. I heaved myself, groaning, to my feet and walked away from the others so my voice would not disturb them.

  “Come in Tremearne. Can you read me.”

  “Sergeant Naenda here. The Captain is off duty this watch. Should I send for him?”

  “Not if you are sitting in for him-and you have the satellite observations handy and up-to-date.”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Well keep looking at them. We’re taking a sleep break now and I would like it to be undisturbed. If you see anyone or anything creeping up on us-give a shout.”

  “Will do. Nighty-night.”

  Nighty-night! What were the armed forces coming to? I stumbled back to my companions and emulated their fine example. I had no trouble at all in falling asleep.

  It was waking up that was difficult. Some hours had slipped by because when I blinked blearily up at the sky I saw that the sun had passed the meridian and was finally slipping down towards the horizon. What had wakened me?

  “Attention, Jim diGriz, attention.”

  I looked around for the speaker and it took long seconds before I realized that it was Captain Tremearne’s voice I was hearing.

  “Wazza?” I said incoherently, still numbed with sleep.

  “One of the Fundamentaloid bands is on the move-roughly in your direction. They should be close enough to see you in about an hour.”

  “By which time we should be ready for visitors. Thanks,
Cap-over and out.”

  My stomach snarled at me and I realized that the concentrated rations had been a little too concentrated. I drank some water to wash the taste of sleep from my mouth, then poked Floyd with my toe. His eyes snapped open and I smiled sweetly.

  “You have Just volunteered to go to those bushes over there and get some firewood. It is breakfast time.”

  “Right, breakfast, wood, wonderful.” He climbed to his feet, yawned and stretched, scratched at his beard then went off on his mission. I gathered up enough dry grass to make a small pile, then dug the atomic battery out of my pack. It would power our musical equipment for at least a year, so it could spare a few volts now. I pulled the insulation off the ends of the wires on a short lead, shorted them to produce a fat snap of sparks, pushed it into the grass. In a moment the grass was burning nicely, crackling and smoking, and ready for the chunks of dry branches that Floyd brought back. When it was good and hot I dropped the polpettone into the glowing ashes.

  The rest of the band stirred in their sleep when the smoke blew their way, but didn’t really wake up until I broke one of the fruits open. The skin was black so I hoped it was done. The rich seasoned fragrance of cooked meat wafted out and everyone was awake in an instant.

  “Yum,” I said, chewing on a fragrant morsel. “My thanks to the genetic engineers who dreamed this one up. Gourmet food – and growing on trees. If it weren’t for the inhabitants this planet would be a paradise.”

  After we had dined and were feeling relatively human I made my report to them.

  “I’ve been in touch with the eye in the sky. A band of nomads is coming this way. I figured that we should let them do the walking instead of us. Are we now prepared for contact?”

  There were quick nods and no hesitant looks I was happy to see. Steengo hefted his ax and glowered. “Ready as we’ll ever be. I just hope this lot is a bit more friendly than the first bunch.”

  “Only one way to find out.” I bit down three times hard. “Where are the Fundamentaloids now?”

  “Crossing a bit north of you-beyond those shrubs on the slight rise.”

  “Then here we go. Packs on, weapons ready, fingers crossed. Forward!”

  We walked slowly up the hill and through the shrubs-and stopped in our tracks and stared at the herd passing slowly by.

  “Sheots,” I said. “The mutant cross between sheep and goats that they told us about.”

  “Sheots,” Madonette agreed. “But they didn’t tell us they were so huge! I don’t even come up to their legpits.”

  “Indeed,” I agreed. “Something else about them. They’re big enough to ride upon. And if I am not mistaken we have been seen and those three riders are galloping our way.”

  “And waving weapons,” Steengo said grimly. “Here we go again.”

  Chapter 10

  They thundered towards us, swords waving, sharp black hooves kicking up clouds of dust. The sheots had nasty little eyes, wicked, curved horns-and what looked very much like tusks. I couldn’t recall ever seeing a sheep or a goat with tusks, but there is always a first time.

  “Stay in line, weapons ready,” I called out, swinging my own sword up. The nearest rider, draped in black, pulled hard on the reins and his woolly mount skidded to a stop. He frowned down on me from behind his great black beard, spoke in a deep and impressive voice.

  “Those who live by the sword shall die by the sword. So it is written.”

  “You talking about yourself?” I queried, blade still ready.

  “We are men of peace, infidel, but defend our flocks against numberless rustlers.”

  He could be telling the truth; I had to take the chance. I plunged my sword into the dirt and stepped back. But was ready to grab it in an instant.

  “We are men of peace as well. But go armed for our own protection in this wicked world.”

  He thought about that for a bit, made the decision. He slipped the sword into a leather scabbard, then swung down from his mount. The beast instantly opened its mouth-and those were tusks and tried to bite him. He scarcely noted this, merely balled a fist and got the thing under the jaw with a swift uppercut. Its mouth clacked shut and its eyes crossed for an instant. It wasn’t too long on brains either, because when its eyes uncrossed it had completely forgotten about him. It said baa loudly and began to graze. The rider walked over and stood before me.

  “I am Arroz conPollo and these are my followers. Have you been saved?”

  “I am Jim diGriz and this is my band. And I don’t believe in banks.”

  “What are banks?”

  “Where you save money. Fedha.”

  “You misunderstand my meaning, Jim of diGriz. It is your soul that needs saving-not your fedha.”

  “An interesting theological point, Arroz of conPollo. We must discuss it in some depth. What do you say we all put the weapons down and have a good chinwag. Put them away,” I called out.

  Arroz signaled his two companions and we all felt a lot better as the swords were sheathed, axes lowered. For the first time he looked away from me to my followers. And gasped, turned pale under his tan, and held his arm before his eyes.

  “Unclean,” he moaned, “unclean.”

  “Well it is a little hard to have a bath when you’re on the trail,” I told him. I didn’t add that he wasn’t that spic and span himself.

  “Not of the body-of the spirit. Is that not a vessel of corruption among you?”

  “Could you spell that out a little more clearly?”

  “Is that… person a… woman?” He still had his arm across his face.

  “The last time I looked she was.” I moved sideways a bit, closer to my sword. “What’s it to you?”

  “Her face must be covered to conceal impurity, her ankles covered lest they promote lust in the hearts of men.”

  “This guy is a bit of a weirdo,” Madonette said disgustedly. He yiped.

  “And her voice silenced lest it lure the blessed into sin!”

  Steengo nodded to Floyd and took the angry girl by the arm, but she shrugged him off. “Jim,” he said. “The bunch of us are going to stroll back among the trees and have a break. See if you can sort this out.”

  “Right.” I watched them leave and when they were out of sight looked back at the three nomads who were emulating their leader, all with their arms raised, as though sniffing their armpits. “It’s safe now. Can we talk about this?”

  “Return,” Arroz said to his mates. “I will explain the Law to this stranger. Let the flock graze.”

  They trotted off while his own mount chomped away on the grass. He sat down cross-legged and motioned to me. “Sit. We must talk.”

  I sat. But upwind of him because it had been a long time since he or his clothes had been near soap and water. And he talked about unclean! He rooted about under his robe, had a good scratch, then withdrew a book and held it up.

  “This book is the font of all wisdom,” he intoned, eyes gleaming.

  “That’s nice. What is it called?”

  “The Book. There are no other books. All that men need to know is in here. The distillate of all wisdom.” I thought that it looked pretty thin for that job, but wisely kept my mouth shut. “It was the great Founder, whose name may not be spoken, who had the inspiration to read all of the Holy books of all of the ages, who saw in them the work of the god whose name may not be spoken, saw which passages were inspired and which were untrue. From all the books He distilled the true Book-then burned all of the others. He went forth into the world and His followers were many. But others were jealous and tried to destroy Him and His followers. That has been told. And it is told that to avoid this senseless persecution He and His followers came to this world where they could worship untroubled. That is why I asked-are you unclean? Or do you also follow the Way of the Book?”

  “Most interesting. I follow a slightly different way. But my way believes in respecting your way, so don’t worry too much about me.”

  He frowned at this and shook an a
dmonitory finger at me. “There is only one Way, only one Book. All who think differently are damned. Now is your chance to be cleansed for I have shown you the true Way.”

  “Thanks a lot-but no thanks.”

  He stood up and stabbed an accusatory finger in my direction. “Unclean! Profane! Leave-for you soil me with your presence.”

  “Well each to their own opinion. Good-by and good luck with your sheot shearing. May all your fleeces be giant ones. But an indulgence please-before you go would you take a look at this.” I pulled the photograph of the alien artifact from my pocket and held it out.

  “Unclean,” he muttered and put his hand behind his back so he wouldn’t touch it.

  “I’m sure it is. I just want to know if you have seen this thing in the picture before.”

  “No, never.”

  “Been nice talking to you.”

  He did not return my friendly wave as he walked over to his mount, kicked it in the leg until it sat down, climbed aboard and galloped off. I pulled my sword out of the ground and went to join the others. Madonette was still simmering.

  “Hypocritical narrow-minded bigoted moron.”

  “That and a lot more. At least I got one bit of negative information from him. He never saw the artifact. It must have been taken by another one of the tribes.”

  “Are we going to have to talk to all of them?”

  “Unless you have any better ideas. And nineteen days to go.”

  “I don’t trust him,” Madonette said. “And don’t sneer and say female intuition. Aren’t these the same kind as the bunch that attacked the archeologists’ ship?”

  “You’re right-and isn’t that the clatter of hundreds of hooves coming this way?”

  “It is!” Floyd shouted, pointing. “What do we do – run?”

  “No! Out of the trees and onto the plain. Instruments at the ready. We are going to give these guys a concert that they will never forget!”