The Stainless Steel Rat eBook Collection (20 page)

‘Try not
to take too long.’

‘I promise not to since I am not that comfortable myself. I must determine if vertical mobility exists and how it is organised. If there is no vertical mobility we will just have to manufacture it.’

‘You have lost me. Vertical what?’

‘Mobility. In terms of class and culture. Take for example these slaves and the guards outside. Can a slave aspire to be a guard? If he can,
then there is vertical mobility. If he cannot this is a stratified society and horizontal mobility is all that can be accomplished.’

‘Such as becoming top slave and kicking all other slaves?’

He nodded. ‘You have it, Jim. We shall cease being slaves as soon as my studies show how that is possible. But first we need
some rest. You will observe that the others are now asleep on the straw to the
rear of this noisome building. I suggest we join them.’

‘Agreed …’

‘You, get over here.’

It was Tars Tukas. And of course he was pointing at me. I had a feeling that it was going to be a very long day.

At least I was seeing more of the sights. We crossed the courtyard, scene of my triumphs, and up a flight of stone steps. There was an armed guard here and two more inside lolling about on a
wooden bench. A bit more luxury too. Woven mats on the floors, chairs and tables, a few bad portraits on the walls, some with a rough resemblance to Capo Doccia. I was hustled right along into a large room with windows that faced out over the outer wall. I could see fields and trees and little else. Capo Doccia was there, along with a small band of men, all drinking from metal cups. They were well-dressed,
if multicoloured leather trousers and billowing shirts and long swords is your idea of well-dressed. Capo Doccia waved me over.

‘You, come here and let us look at you.’

The others turned with interest and eyed me like an animal on auction.

‘And he actually knocked the other one down without using his fists?’ one of them said. ‘He is so weak and puny, not to mention ugly.’

There are times when
the mouth should be opened only to put in food. This was probably one of them. But I was tired, fed up with my lot, and generally in a foul temper. Something snapped.

‘Not as weak, puny or ugly as you, you pig’s git.’

This got his attention all right. He howled with instant anger, turned bright red – then drew a long steel blade and rushed at me.

I had little time to think, less time to act.
One of the other dandies was standing close by, his metal drinking mug held loosely. I grabbed it from him, turned and threw the contents in the attacking man’s face.

Most of it missed, but enough dripped down onto his clothes to infuriate him even more. He slashed down with his sword and I caught the blow on the mug, diverting it. Letting the mug slide up along the blade into his fingers, grabbing
and twisting his sword arm at the same time.

He howled nicely and the sword clattered to the floor. After this he was turned sideways, nicely exposed for a finishing kick to the back.

Except someone tripped me from behind at that moment and I went sprawling.

They thought this very amusing because their laughter was all I could hear. When I scrambled for the fallen blade one of them kicked it aside. Things were not looking too good. I couldn’t fight them all. I had to get out.

It was too late. Two of them knocked me to the ground from behind and another one kicked me in the side. Before I could get up my sword-wielding opponent
was on top of me, kneeling on my chest and drawing an exceedingly ugly dagger with a wavery edge.

‘What is this creature, Capo Doccia?’ he called out, holding my chin with his free hand, the dagger close to my throat.

‘An offworlder,’ Capo Doccia said. ‘They threw him off the spacer.’

‘Is it valuable, worth anything?’

‘I don’t know,’ Capo Doccia said, looking down at me bemusedly. ‘Perhaps.
But I don’t like its fancy offplanet tricks. They don’t belong here. Oh, kill it and be done.’

I had not moved during this interesting exchange because I had some obvious interest in its outcome. I moved now.

The knife-wielder screamed as I twisted his arm – breaking it I hope – and grabbed the dagger as his fingers flew open. I held onto him as I jumped to my feet then pushed him into the midst
of his companions. They were behind me as well, but they fell back as I swept the dagger about in a circle. Moving after it, running before they could get their own weapons out. Running for my life.

The only direction I knew, back down the stairs. Bumping into Tars Tukas and rendering him unconscious as I passed.

Roars and shouts of anger sounded behind me and I wasted no time even glancing
their way. Down the stairs, three at a time, towards the guards at the entrance. They were still scrambling to their feet when I ploughed into them and we all went down. I kneed one under the chin as we fell, grabbing his gun by the barrel as I did this. The other was struggling to point his weapon at me when I caught him in the side of the head with the one I was holding.

The running feet were
right behind me as I charged through the door, right at the surprised guard. He drew his sword but before he could use it he was unconscious. I dropped the dagger
and seized his more lethal sword and ran on. The gate we had entered by was ahead. Wide open.

And well-guarded by armed men who were already raising their guns. I angled off towards the slave building as they fired. I don’t know where
their shots went but I was still alive as I turned the corner.

One knife, one gun, one very tired Jim diGriz. Who did not dare stop or even slow down. The outer wall was ahead – with scaffolding and a ladder leaning against it where masons were making repairs. I screeched and waved my weapons and the workmen dived in all directions. I went up the ladders as fast as I could. Noticing that bullets
were striking the wall on all sides of me, chips of stone flying.

Then I was on top of the wall, fighting for breath, chancing a look behind me for the first time.

Dropping to my face as the massed gunmen below fired a volley that parted the air just above my head. Capo Doccia and his court had left the pursuit to the guards and were standing behind them cursing and waving their weapons. Very
impressive. I pulled my head back as they fired again.

Other guards were climbing up the wall and moving towards me. Which really did limit my choices a bit. I looked over the outside of the wall at the brown surface of the water that lay at its base. Some choice!

‘Jim, you must learn to do something about your big mouth,’ I said, then took a deep breath and jumped.

Splashed – and stuck. The
water was just up to my neck and I was stuck in the soft mud that had broken my fall. I struggled against it, pulling out one foot, then the other, struggling against its gluey embrace as I waded to the far bank. My pursuers weren’t in sight yet – but they would surely be right behind me. All I could do was keep moving. Crawling up the grassy bank, still clutching my purloined weapons, then staggering
into the shelter of the trees ahead. And still no sign of the armed guards. They should be across the bridge and after me by this time. I couldn’t believe my good luck.

Until I fell headlong, screaming as the pain washed over me. Pain unbelievable, blotting out sight, sound, senses.

Then it stopped and I brushed the tears of agony from my eyes. The paincuff – I had forgotten all about it. Tars
Tukas had regained consciousness and was thumbing the control button. What had he said? Leave it on long enough and it blocks all the nerves, kills. I grabbed at my shoe and the lockpick concealed there as the pain struck again.

When it stopped this time I was almost too weak to move my fingers. As I fumbled with the pick I realised that they were sadists and I should be grateful for the fact.
With the button held down I was good as dead. But someone, undoubtedly Capo Doccia, wanted me both to suffer and know that there was no way out. The key was in the lock when pain consumed me one more time.

When it stopped I was lying on my side, the lockpick fallen from my fingers, unable to move.

But I had to move. Another wave of agony like that and it would be all over for me. I would lie
in these woods until I died. My fingers trembled, moved. The pick crept towards the tiny opening of the lock, moved in, twisted feebly …

It took a very long time for the red mists to clear from my vision, the agony to seep out of my body. I could not move, felt I would never stir again. I had to blink the tears away when I could see. See the most beautiful sight in the world.

The open paincuff
lying on the mouldy leaves.

Only my captors’ knowledge that the pain machine led to certain death had saved my life. The searchers were in no hurry; I could hear them talking as they moved through the woods towards me.

‘… somewhere in here. Why don’t they just leave him?’

‘Leave a good blade and a shooter. No chance of that. And Capo Doccia wants to hang the body up in the courtyard until it
rots. Never saw him that angry.’

Life slowly returned to my paralysed body. I moved off the animal track I had been following and pulled myself into the shelter of the low shrubbery, reaching out to straighten out the grass. And not too soon.

‘Look-he came out of the water here. Went along this path.’

Heavy footsteps approached and went by. I clutched my weapons and did the only thing possible.
Lay quiet and waited for my strength to return.

This was, I must admit, a bit of a low point in my life. Friendless, alone, still throbbing with pain, exhausted, hunted by armed men just dying to kill me, thirsty … It was quite a list. About the only thing that hadn’t happened so far was to get rained on.

It started to rain.

There are high and low points in emotion when there is no room for
excess. To love one so much it would be impossible to love any more. I think. Never having had any personal experience in that. But I had plenty of experience in being in
the pits. Where I was now. I could sink no lower nor get more depressed. It was the rain that did it. I began to chuckle – then grabbed my mouth so I wouldn’t laugh out loud. Then the laughter died away as my anger grew. This
was no way to treat a mean and nasty stainless steel rat! Now in danger of getting rusty.

I moved my legs and had to stifle a groan. The pain was still there but the anger rode it down. I clutched the gun and stuck the sword into the ground, then pulled myself to my feet by grabbing the branches of the tree with my free hand. Grabbed up the sword again and stood there, swaying. But not falling.
Until I was finally able to stagger off, one step at a time, away from the searchers and Capo Doccia’s criminal establishment.

The forest was quite extensive and I moved along game paths for an immeasurable length of time. I had left the searchers far behind, I was sure of that. So when the forest thinned and ended I leaned against a tree to catch my breath and looked out at the tilled field.
It was time to find my way back to the haunts of man. Where there were ploughs there were ploughboys. They shouldn’t be too hard to find. When a certain measure of strength had returned I staggered off along the edge of the field, ready to fall into the forest at the sight of armed men. I was very pleased to see the farmhouse first. It was low to the ground, thatched and windowless – at least on
this side. It had a chimney from which there rose a thin trickle of smoke. No need for heating in this balmy climate – so this must be a cooking fire. Food.

At the thought of food my neglected stomach began to churn, rumble and complain. I felt the same way. Food and drink were next in order. And what better place to find them than at this isolated farm? The question was the answer. I stumbled
across the furrows to the back of the house, worked my way around the side to the front. No one. But there were voices coming from the open doorway, laughter – and the smell of cooking. Yum! I sauntered into the open, along the front and through the front door.

‘Hi, folks. Look who has come to dinner.’

There were a half-dozen of them grouped around the scrubbed wood table. Young and old, thick
and thin. All with the same expression on their faces. Jaw-dropped astonishment. Even the baby stopped crying and aped its elders. A grizzled oldster broke the spell, scrambling to his feet in such a hurry his three-legged stool tumbled over.

‘Welcome, your honour, welcome.’ He tugged his forelock as
he bowed to show how grateful he was for my presence. ‘How may we aid you, honoured sir?’

‘If
you could spare a bit of food …’

‘Come! Sit! Dine! We have but humble fare but willingly share it. Here!’

He straightened his stool and waved me to it. The others scampered away from the table so I wouldn’t be disturbed. Either way they were discerning judges of human nature and knew what a sterling fellow I was – or they had seen the sword and gun. A wooden plate was filled from the pot hung
over the fire and put before me. Life here was a cut above the slavepens for I was also supplied with a wooden spoon. I tucked in with a great deal of pleasure. It was a vegetable stew, with the occasional shard of meat, garden fresh of course, and tasted wonderful. There was cool water to drink out of a clay cup and I could have asked for nothing more. While I shovelled it all into my face I was
aware of low whispering from the farmers gathered at the far end of the room. I doubted if they were planning anything violent. Nevertheless I kept one eye on them and my hand not far from the hilt of the sword laid out on the table.

When I had finished and belched loudly – they buzzed warmly at this gustatory approval – the old man detached himself from the group and shuffled forward. He pushed
before him a shock-headed youth who looked to be about my age.

‘Honoured sir, may I speak with you?’ I waved agreement and belched again. He smiled at this and nodded. ‘Ahh, you are kind enough to flatter the cook. Since you are obviously a man of good wit and humour, intelligent and handsome, as well as being a noted warrior, permit me to put a small matter to you.’