The Stainless Steel Rat eBook Collection (30 page)

Because of her, a woman, female creature briefly seen and instantly recognized. One glimpse and all reason had fled, emotion had ruled and I had attempted my disastrous escape. More fool I.I grimaced at the memory, recalling all too clearly how this idiot adventure had begun.

It had
been during our afternoon exercise period, that wildly exciting occasion when the prisoners were let out of their cells and permitted to shuffle around the ferroconcrete yard under the gentle light of the double suns. I shuffled with the rest and tried to ignore my companions. Low foreheads, joined eyebrows, pendulous and drool-flecked lips; a very unsatisfactory peer group of petty criminals that
I was ashamed to be a part of. Then something had stirred them, some unaccustomed novelty that had excited their feeble intellects and had caused them to rush toward the chainlink fence emitting hoarse cries and vulgar exhortations. Numbed by the monotony of prison life even I had felt a twinge of curiosity and desire to see what had caused this explosion of unfamiliar emotion. It should have been
obvious. Women. That, and strong drink and its aftereffects, were the only topics that ever stirred the sluggish synapses of their teeny minds.

Three newly arrived female prisoners were passing by on the other side of the fence. Two of them, cut from the same cloth as my companions, responded with equally hoarse cries and interesting gestures of the fingers and hand. The third prisoner walked
quietly, if grimly, ignoring her surroundings. Her walk was familiar. But how could it be? I had never even heard of this planet before I had been forcefully brought here. This was a mystery in need of a solution. I hurried along the fence to its end, cleared a space for myself by applying my knuckles to a hair-covered neck in such a manner that the neck’s owner slipped into unconsciousness, took
his space and looked out.

At a very familiar face passing by not a meter distant. Without a doubt a face and a name that I knew very well.

Bibs, the crewgirl from Captain Garth’s spacer.

She was a link to Garth and I had to talk to her, to find out where he was. By kidnapping us and dumping us on the loathsome planet of Spiovente, Captain Garth had been responsible for The Bishop’s death. Which
meant that I would like to be responsible for his in return.

So, without further thought, and possessed only of a suicidal and impractical enthusiasm, I had foolishly escaped. Only the luck that watches over the completely witless had saved my life
and permitted my return, undetected, to my prison cell. I blushed now with shame as I thought about the stupidity of my plan. Lack of thought, lack
of foresight—and the incredibly dumb assumption that all security in the giant building would be identical. During our daily exodus and return to the cell block I had noted the exceedingly simple locks on all of the doors, the absence of any alarms. I had assumed that the rest of the building had been the same.

I had assumed wrong. The car of the maglevlift had notified the guards when it had
been used. I had spotted the detectors in the corridor at once when the door had opened on the top floor. That was why I had tried the escape hatch in the roof, hoping to find a way out through the mechanism at the top of the shaft.

Except that there had been no mechanism there—just another door. Opening into another floor that did not appear on the bank of buttons inside the car. Some secret
location known only to the authorities. Hoping to penetrate this secret I had climbed onto the doorsill and searched for a way to open the door. Only to have the elevator vanish from behind me leaving me stranded on top of the empty shaft.

I had come out of this little harebrained adventure far better than I had deserved. Luck would not ride with me a second time. Cool planning was needed. I
put this nearly-disastrous escapade behind me and thought furiously of schemes and ways to make contact with the crewgirl.

“Do it honestly,” I said, and shocked myself with the words.

Honest? Me? The stainless steel rat who prowls the darkness of the night in solitary silence, fearing no one, needing no one.

Yes. Painful as the realization was, just this once honesty was indeed the best policy.

“Attention, foul jailers, attention!” I shouted and hammered on the bars of my cage. “Arouse yourself from your sweat-sodden slumbers and vulgar, erotic dreams and take me to Captain Varod. Soonest—or even sooner!”

My fellow prisoners awoke, calling out in righteous anger and threatened all sorts of unimaginative bodily harm. I returned
the insults with enthusiasm and eventually the night guard
appeared, scowling with menace.

“Hi, there,” I called out cheerily. “Nice to see a friendly face.”

“You want your skull broke, kid?” he asked. His repartee just about as sharp as that of the inmates.

“No. But I want you to stay out of trouble by instantly taking me to Captain Varod since I have information of such military importance that you would be shot instantly if suspected of keeping
it from the captain for more than a second or two.”

He added some more threats, but there was a glint of worry in his eyes as he thought about what I had said. It seemed obvious, even to someone of his guttering intelligence, that passing the buck was the wisest fallback position. He growled some more insults when I pointed back down the corridor, but left in any case and went to his telephone.
Nor was my wait a long one. A brace of overmuscled and overweight guards appeared on the scene within minutes. They unlocked my cell, clamped on the cuffs and hurried me into the maglevlift and up a few hundred stories to a bare office. Where they fastened the cuffs to a heavy chair and left. The lieutenant who entered a few minutes later was still blinking the sleep from his eyes and was not happy
at being disturbed in the middle of the night.

“I want Varod,” I said. “I don’t talk to the hired help.”

“Shut up, diGriz, before you get yourself into worse trouble. The captain is in deep space and unreachable. I am from his department and urge you to speak quickly before I bounce you out of here.”

It sounded reasonable enough. And I had very little choice.

“Have you ever heard of a space-going
Venian swine who goes by the name of Captain Garth?”

“Get on with it,” he said in a bored voice, yawning to drive home the point. “I worked on your case so you can speak freely. What do you know that you haven’t told us already?”

“I have information about our gun-running friend. You do have him in custody, don’t you?”

“DiGriz—you give us information, that is the way that it works, not the other
way around.” That was what he said, but his expression spoke otherwise. A fleeting instant of worry. If
that meant what I thought it meant then Garth had managed to escape them.

“I saw a girl today, a new prisoner being brought in. Her name is Bibs.”

“Did you get me out of bed to describe some sordid sexual secret?”

“No. I just thought you should know that Bibs was a crewgirl on Garth’s ship.”

This caught his attention instantly, and not being as experienced as his commanding officer he could not conceal the look of sudden interest.

“You are sure of this?”

“Check for yourself. The information on today’s arrivals should be readily available.”

It was: he sat behind the steel desk and hammered away at the keys on the terminal there. Looked at the screen and scowled in my direction.

“Three women admitted today. None named Bibs.”

“How very unusual.” Scorn dripped from my voice. “Can it be that the criminal classes now use aliases?”

He did not answer but tapped away at the terminal again. The fax buzzed and produced three sheets of paper. Three color portraits. I dropped two of them onto the floor and handed the third back.

“Bibs.”

He bashed some more keys, then slumped
back and rubbed his chin as he studied the screen.

“It fits, it fits,” he muttered. “Marianney Giuffrida, age twenty-five, occupation given as electrotechnician with deepspace experience. Arrested on a drugs possession charge, anonymous tip, swears she was framed. No other details.”

“Ask her about Garth. Use persuasion. Make her talk.”

“You have our thanks for your assistance, diGriz. It will
go on your record.” He tapped a number into the phone. “But you have been watching too many films. There is no way we can force people to give evidence. But we can question and observe and draw conclusions. They will take you back to your cell now.”

“Gee, thanks for the thanks. Thanks for nothing. Can you at least do me the favor of telling me how long you intend to keep me here?”

“That should
be easy enough to find out.” A quick access of the terminal and a sage nod of the head as the door opened behind me. “You will be leaving us the day after tomorrow. A spacer will be stopping at a planet with the interesting name of Bit O’ Heaven where, it appears, you have to answer some criminal charges.”

“Guilty until found guilty, I suppose.” I sneered and whined to hide the surge of enthusiasm
that raced through me. Once out of here I really would be out of here. I ignored the rough clutch and muttered complaints of my warders and permitted myself to be docilely led back to my cell. I was going to be good, very, very good, until the day after tomorrow.

But I lay awake a long time after that, staring into the darkness, working out how I was going to pry the information I needed out
of crewmember Bibs.

“Sign here.”

I signed. The ancient graybeard behind the desk passed over the plastic bag containing all of my worldly possessions, forcibly removed from me when I had been incarcerated. I reached for them but the fat guard reached even faster.

“Not yet, prisoner,” he said, whisking them away from my clutching fingers. “These will be forwarded to the arresting authorities.”

“They’re
mine!”

“Take it up with them. All set, Rasco?”

“My name’s not Rasco!”

“Mine is. Shut up,” the other guard said. A well-muscled and nasty individual whose right wrist was secured to my left by a pair of shining cuffs. He pulled hard on this connecting link so I stumbled toward him. “You do what I say and no backtalk or funny stuff.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry.”

I lowered my eyes in humility which caused
him to smirk with assumed superiority. He should only know that I was using the opportunity to look more closely at the cuffs. Bulldog-Crunchers, sold throughout the known galaxy, guaranteed foolproof. Maybe proof against fools but I could open them in under two seconds. It was going to be a nice day.

Fatso walked on my right side, well-connected Rasco on my left. I marched in step with them,
eager to leave the prison and examine the world waiting outside the League building. I had come here in a closed van and had seen nothing. Eagerness possessed me in expectation of a first glimpse of my new home; thoughts about my forceful removal from this planet may have preoccupied my guardians—but were the farthest thing from my mind at this moment.

Exiting the building was not easily done—and
I gave myself another mental kick for even thinking of breaking out of this bunker-skyscraper. There were three doors to go out through, one after another, each sealed as tightly as an airlock. Our passes were slipped into computerized machines that hummed and clicked—then robot sensors examined our fingerprints and retinal patterns to make sure we matched the details on the passes. This was
done three times before the outer portal hummed open and a wave of warm air, smell and sound washed in.

As we went down the steps to the street I gaped like a rube. I had never seen anything like this before. Of course my experience was strictly limited since this was only the third planet I had ever visited. My life on the porcuswine farms of Bit O’ Heaven and my service in the swamps of Spiovente
had not prepared me for the manifold impressions that bombarded me.

A wave of heat and dusty air washed over me. It was filled with pungent aromas, loud cries and a cacophony of strange noises. At the same time as my ears and nose were being assaulted my eyes bulged at the seething mass of humanity, the strange vehicles—and the four-legged alien creatures. One passed close by, a man sitting on
its back, its great feet thudding on the ground, eyes rolling in my direction. Its mouth opened to reveal hideous yellow teeth and it squealed loudly. I drew back and my guards laughed aloud at this perfectly reasonable reaction.

“We’ll protect you from the
margh
,” Fatso said, and they chortled with dim pleasure.

Maybe it was called a
margh
in the local lingo, but it was still a horse to me.
I had seen them in the ancient history tapes at school. The creatures had been used for farming when Bit
O’ Heaven was first settled, but had soon succumbed to the deadly native life. Only the indestructible porcuswine had been able to survive. I looked more closely at the horse, at the obviously herbivorous teeth, and realized it posed no threat. But it was big. Two more of the creatures came
up, towing a boxlike affair mounted on large wheels. The driver, sitting high above, pulled the thing to a stop when Rasco whistled to him.

“Get in,” Fatso ordered, swinging open a door in the vehicle’s side. I held back, pointed with distaste.

“It’s filthy in there! Can’t the League Navy provide decent transportation …”

Rasco kicked me in the back of the leg so I fell forward. “Inside—and
no backtalk!” They climbed in after me. “It is Navy policy to use native transport when possible, to aid the local economy. So shut up and enjoy.”

I shut, but I didn’t enjoy. I looked unseeingly at the crowded street as we rumbled away, thinking of the best way to escape my captors while inflicting a bit of damage on my sadistic companion. Now would be as good a time as any. Strike like lightning,
then leave them both unconscious in this vehicle while I slipped away in the crowd. I bent over and scratched furiously at my ankle.

“I’ve been bitten! There are bugs in here!”

“Bite them back,” Fatso said and they both roared with juvenile laughter. Wonderful. Neither saw me slip the lockpick from my shoe and palm it. I turned toward Rasco with mayhem in mind just as the vehicle lurched to
a stop and Fatso reached across and threw open the door. “Out,” he ordered and Rasco pulled painfully on the handcuff. I gaped at the marble-fronted building before us.