The Stainless Steel Rat eBook Collection (128 page)

‘He’s not aboard, sir.’

‘I’ve made a note of that dereliction of duty and you will tell him of it when he returns. His assistant then.’

I went by him without a further look and he sprang to the telephone. By the time I had reached A deck an engineer in greasy coveralls was waiting for me, nervously wiping his hands on a cloth.

‘I’m sorry, we were taking down one of the generators
…’ his voice ran out and expired as I glared at him.

‘I know you have trouble, and that is why I am here. Take me to the engine room.’

He hurried away and I followed heavily after him. This was going to be easier than I thought. Three white-faced ratings looked up from the guts of the generator when we came in.

‘Get them out of
here,’ I said and did not have to repeat myself.

I looked at the
open generator and nodded sagely as if I had any idea what the repairs were about. Then I began a slow tour of the engine room, tapping dials and squinting into observation ports while the engineer trotted after me. When I reached the warpdrive generator I looked at the nameplate covered with incomprehensible numbers and then turned to the engineer.

‘Why is this model being used?’

I have never
seen an engineer yet who didn’t have something to say about every piece of equipment under his care and this one was no different.

‘We know it is the older model, sir, but the replacement didn’t arrive in time to install and balance before the flight.’

‘Bring me the tech manual.’

As soon as his back was turned I squeezed the handle of my case and the bomb dropped into my hand. I set the delay
for forty minutes, armed it, and activated the sticky molecules on the base. Then I bent down and pushed it up under the thick housing of the warpdrive generator where it could not be seen. I was examining another piece of equipment by the time the engineer returned with the manual. A quick flip through the pages and a grunt or two over the identification numbers satisfied him, and I handed it
back. I felt ashamed because the job was so easy.

‘See that the work is done quickly,’ I said as I left, specifying nothing, but receiving in return his fervent assurances that it would be so.

I repeated this maneuver at the next spacer, parking my car in the shadows near it. Just about the time I realized that there was something familiar about the ship Ostrov came down the gangway and turned
to face me.

This sudden confrontation
startled me as much as it did him. But his eyes bulged and he stopped dead while I, being deep in the Kraj role, only stared coldly at him. Would he recognise me? I had bunked with him and drunk with him during my Vaska Hulja days, and I had piloted this ship. The Kraj disguise was good – but could it be expected to stand up to this close examination by someone
who knew me so well?

‘Well?’ I whispered finally, when he showed no intention of moving or speaking or doing anything other than stare.

‘I’m sorry, sir, you surprised me. I didn’t expect to see you here, if you know what I mean.’ He began to sweat and I stayed silent. ‘Your voice,’ he said finally. ‘Is there anything wrong?’

Of course there was. I knew I couldn’t make my voice sound like the
real Kraj’s to someone who had talked with him recently as Ostrov had. I also knew that one whisper sounds very much like any other whisper. But I wasn’t telling him that.

‘A wound,’ I husked. ‘After all there is a war on – and some of us are fighting it.’

‘Yes, of course, I understand.’

He jittered back and forth from one foot to the other and I had enough of this and pushed on by. But he
called after me and I turned with cold impatience to face him again.

‘I’m sorry to bother you. I was just wondering if you have heard anything about the whereabouts of Vaska …’

‘That is not his name. He is a spy. You aren’t trying to become familiar with a spy, are you?’ Ostrov flushed red, but went on.

‘No, of course not, spy, that’s what he is. But we were friends once, he wasn’t a bad sort
then. I was just inquiring.’

‘I’11 do the inquiring, you do the piloting.’

I turned after
these appropriately Krajian words and stamped into the ship. Ostrov had surprised me standing up to Kraj like that. Somewhere inside his alcoholic hide there was a human being struggling for release.

This bomb was as easy to plant as the first one had been and I set it to go off at roughly the same time.
Working fast now I drove quickly from ship to ship and managed to plant seven more bombs before the first one went boom. I was in engine room number nine when the alarm sounded.

‘What is that?’ I asked, hearing the distant moan of sirens.

‘I have no idea,’ the elderly engineer said, and pointed back to the engines. ‘These liner tubes, second rate and shoddy and I can’t get replacements …’

‘I’m no supply officer,’ I snarled, suddenly very much in a hurry. ‘Go find out what the trouble is.’

As soon as he left I slipped the bomb into place, set it for three minutes and followed him out.

‘What is it?’ I asked, meeting him at the top of the gangway.

‘An explosion in one of the ships, in the engine room.’

‘Where? I must look into this!’

I shouted the words and exited as fast as I
could. Almost all of the bombs should have gone off by now and the reports would be pouring in. At first it would all be confusion, and it was during this period that I had to make my exit from the base. Because soon after that would come the realization that all of the explosions had occurred in the same place in a number of ships, followed by the unbelievable news that Kraj had recently been in
all of these engine rooms. Kraj would not be suspected, not at first, but the authorities would certainly like to have a little chat with him. I wanted to get out before this final stage was reached. Walking
as fast as I could without attracting attention, I headed for my car.

And saw the two military policemen standing there, holding the sagging Hamal between them.

‘Is this your car, sir?’
one of them asked.

‘Of course. What are you doing here?’

‘It’s this man, we saw him sitting in the back talking to himself. We thought he was drunk until we heard him speak. Some foreign language, sir, sounds like the one they talk on this planet. Do you know who he is?’

I didn’t hesitate. This was war and troops die for a lot of reasons.

‘Never saw him before in my life.’

My voice penetrated
Hamal’s drugged brain because he looked up, blinking. Weak as his nerve was, he must have the physical constitution of an ox to be even moving after the amount of gas he had breathed. Then he groped for me shouting aloud.

‘You must help me, they are going to kill me, get me out of here, it was a mistake bringing me in the first place …’

‘What’s he saying?’ one of the military policemen asked.

‘I have no idea – though I think he might be the spy who has been causing the engine room sabotage.’ Time was going by too quickly; how soon before they thought of Kraj? ‘Put him in the back of the car and come with me. I know how to make him talk sense.’

While they were doing this I started the engines and pulled away, even before they sat down. This tumbled them about a bit and if they noticed
the blankets on the floor they did not mention them. Throttle wide open I headed for the exit.

Towards the officer who stood blocking the way, holding up his hand for me to stop. I kept going but had to brake hard at the last instant because he did not move.

‘You cannot leave. The base is
closed.’ He was cold-eyed, hard-faced and mean. So was I.

‘I am leaving. Save your orders for others.’

‘My orders were to close the gate to
everyone
without exception.’

‘I have a prisoner who may be a saboteur and I have two men to guard him. I am taking him to the Octagon for questioning. Your professional zeal is commendable, Captain, but you must know that I am the one who issues orders, not obeys them.’

‘You cannot leave.’

Either he was bull-headed to an insane degree – or he had specific
orders about me. I had not time to find out. Through the window I could see one of the men answering the phone and I had a sharp suspicion what that call might be. I drew my pistol and pointed it at the captain.

‘Move or I will kill you,’ I said, in as bored a monotone as I could manage.

He half reached for his gun – then stopped. For a moment more he hesitated and I could see the worried fear
in his eyes. Then he stepped aside reluctantly and I gunned the car forward. I had a brief glimpse of a soldier running out of the guardhouse, pointing at the car, shouting something that was drowned in the roar of the engine. After that I did not look back, though the military policemen obviously did. In the rear view mirror I saw them whispering together and they might have been reaching for
their guns. I took no chances. As soon as we turned the first corner I threw a gas grenade into the back seat, then stopped just long enough to unload my brace of sleeping beauties.

Hamal was also now very soundly asleep and I strongly wished that I were as well. I yawned broadly and, following the side roads, headed for the dock.

‘E
XPLAIN, DI
G
RIZ
, explain
and make it good.’

Inskipp was in his usual charming humor, growling and snarling and pacing the length of the spacer’s lounge.

‘First tell me how the children are, my sons, never seen by their father, how do they do?’

‘Yes, how are they?’ Angelina asked, sitting back comfortably in one of the lounge chairs. Inskipp spluttered a bit but had to answer.

‘Doing fine. Putting on weight. Eat a lot just like their father. You’ll see them soon. Now enough of that. I come I don’t know how many light years to supervise this operation because it seems to have ground to a full stop. And what do I find? My two agents have had enough and have deserted the planet of their assignment and meet me here in orbit – even though said planet is clamped beneath the
iron heel of the Cliaand. Explain.’

‘We have won.’

‘No jokes, diGriz. I can have you shot.’

‘You won’t hurt me, you have too much invested in my hide. And I meant what I said. We have won. Burada, clamped under the iron heel, doesn’t know it yet. The Cliaandian clampers don’t know it yet. Just the privileged few.’

‘I’m not one of that happy number. Talk faster.’

‘A demonstration is in order.
Angelina my sweet, do you have our little toy?’

She opened a box next to her chair and handed over the Thing. It was smooth and black and no bigger than my hand. There were small
openings on its bottom and at each end, while one end had a cluster of tiny lenses as well. I held it out to Inskipp who looked at it suspiciously.

‘Do you know what this is?’ I said.

‘No. And I can’t say that I really
care to.’

‘This is the tombstone on the grave of all the Cliaandian expansionist ambitions. What type of space vessel is this we are aboard?’

‘A light destroyer, Gnasher class. And what relevancy does that have?’

‘Patience, and all will be revealed.’

I next took the small control box from Angelina and inserted the end of the spiked rod projecting from it into the matched opening in the Thing.
Then I tapped out the serial number for Gnasher class destroyers on the keyboard. With the control box still attached I carried the Thing to the lounge exit where we could see the bulky disc of the main airlock. Angelina followed, leading the protesting Inskipp.

‘We must imagine,’ I said, ‘that this ship is on the ground and that the lock is open. All airlocks open sooner or later and when they
do the Thing is waiting. And so is the operator, watching from up to three kilometers away. The lock opens and he activates the Thing. It soars straight at the open lock, through it, and—’

I pressed the
go
button and it went. Tiny jets screamed and it darted off like an impassioned hummingbird, down the hallway towards the stern.

‘After it!’ I shouted and led the way at a dead run.

We caught
up with it two decks down where it had been stopped by a closed door – but not stopped for long. The thermal lance in the Thing’s nose burned a quick hole through the metal and it was off again. When we reached the engine room it had almost eaten its way through this thicker door and there was just time to throw the door open as it went
through. It zoomed once around the room as though getting
its bearings, so small and fast it was almost impossible to follow, then it dived.

Right at the warpdrive generator where it exploded in a puff of black smoke.

‘A harmless smoke charge,’ I said. ‘To be replaced in field operation by high explosive, more than enough to destroy the warpdrive generator, yet small enough not to cause any other damage. A humane weapon indeed.’

‘You’re mad.’

‘Only
at the Cliaand and the gray men for pursuing this futile war. If we can go back for that drink now I’ll tell you how it is going to be stopped.’

Comfortably seated, throat cooled, I explained.

‘I personally polished off the warpdrive generators in nine of the Cliaand ships, just to see if it could be done and if there would be any unusual problems in ship design or construction. There were none.
Cliaandian ships are just like any other ships, only more so since they like a good deal of uniformity which makes our job that much easier. The Thing has been designed to do that job. The Thing operator can sit at his ease outside of a spaceport, watching the Cliaand ships through high powered glasses. When the observed ship opens its port the Thing strikes. The operator must merely aim it,
feed in the type of ship, and start it on its way. The Thing has a molecular level memory bank and computer circuitry. It zeroes in on the ship at high speed, finds the port and enters and then, using its programmed knowledge of the vessel’s interior, it makes its way to the engine room, stopping for nothing. Where it blows up the warpdrive generator. End of the Cliaand invasion.’

‘End of one
warpdrive generator,’ Inskipp said, a sneer in his voice. ‘They order up another one and that is that.’