Harry Harrison - SSR 05 - The Stainless Steel Rat For Presid

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The Stainless Steel Rat for President
by Harry Harrison
"Can you think of a special toast?" I asked, watching closely as the waiter filled our glasses
with the sparkling vintage wine. ~
"I certainly can," my dear Angelina said, raising her glass and looking across it straight into
my eyes. "To my husband, Jim diGriz, who has just saved the universe. Again." I was touched.
Particularly by the again. Since I am by nature extremely modest, it is always a pleasure to have
my personal feelings about my abilities supported by an unsolicited testimonial. Particularly from
one as lovely, charming, intelligent, and dangerously ruthless as my Angelina. She had also been
present during the entire affair with the Slimeys, had even been an active participant while I was
stopping them from taking over our galaxy, so I treasured her opinion
even more.
"You are too kind," I murmured. "But truth will out. However it is all over now and we will
forget the grim parts, drink to the victories—and enjoy the best meal that this restaurant can
provide."
We touched glasses and drank deep. Over my wife's shoulder I admired the orange Blodgett sun
setting behind the purple skyline, the sunlight striking reflections from the canal outside. And
out of the comers of my eyes I kept close watch
on the two heavies seated by the door who had our table under subtle surveillance. I didn't know
who they were—but I did know that they were packing large guns in their damp armpits.
I would not let them spoil the occasion! Angelina and I made light talk, drank the wine, gorged
ourselves on the curried mastodon. The string quartet played, darkness fell,
we lingered over coffee and liqueur—and Angelina took out a tiny mirror as she touched up her
lipstick.
2 The Stainless Steel Rat for President
"You do know that there are two thugs by the entrance who have been watching us closely ever
since we arrived." I sighed and nodded and took out my cigar case. "Unhappily, my sweet, I do.
I did not mention them for fear they would spoil the meal." "Nonsense! It just added a little
spice to the dinner." "Most perfect wife," I enthused, smiling as I lit my cigar. "This planet
radiates boredom. Anything with the slightest whiff of interest can only be an improvement." "I'm
glad you feel like that . . ." She glanced into her mirror. "Because they are on their way over
here now. Is there anything I can do to help? I only have this tiny evening bag,
so I'm not really prepared. Just a few grenades, a sonic bomb or two, nothing important."
"Is that all?" I asked, eyebrows reaching for my hairline. My Angelina never ceases to amaze.
"No. This lipstick is a one-shot pistol, deadly at fifty meters..."
"We won't need that," I said hurriedly. "Not for just two of them. You sit and watch. A little
exercise to aid my digestion." "Four. They've been joined by some friends." "The odds are still in
my favor."
I could hear them thudding up behind me now—and I relaxed. From the weight of their steps they
could only be police. Criminals might have given me some trouble. But the local police! I could
polish off a squad before breakfast—and still have an appetite for lunch. The footsteps stopped as
the burliest one appeared before me. I tensed as he reached into
a pocket—then relaxed as he produced nothing more deadly than an ornate golden badge studded with
precious stones.
"I am Captain Kretin of the Blodgett police. While you, I believe, are the individual who
operates under the alias of the Stainless Steel Rat . . ."
Alias indeed! As though I were a common criminal. I ground my teeth with rage as I reached out
and broke my cigar under his nose. His eyes widened—then closed, as the instant sleeping gas from
the crunched vial in the cigar drifted into his hairy nostrils. I took his badge, after all be had
offered it to me, and turned aside as he dropped, lace first, into the sugar bowl.
I kept turning, my rigid index finger extended, to catch his corpulent colleague just behind the
jawbone with this deadly digit. There is a nerve ganglion there which, if hit in the
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The Stainless Steel Rat for President 3
precise center, will produce instant unconsciousness. I did not miss. He folded nicely across his
fat friend.
I didn't stay around to watch. "Twenty-two," I called out to Angelina as I started for the
kitchen door. Before I reached it two more policemen stepped through. And the main entrance was
blocked by survivors of the original four.
"Trapped!" I shouted aloud, then touched the sonic screamer in my belt buckle. A number of the
diners screamed in response as the vibrations produced feelings of terror. Nice. In the confusion
I would escape through the fire exit hidden behind the drapes.
Except this door wasn't the only thing the drapes concealed. Two more policemen blocked my way.
"This was getting annoying. I leapt onto a long banquet table and neatly danced my way down its
length, avoiding all the crockery with a fine precision that belies my years. More screams and
shouts followed this exhibition until I reached the end—and
spun about with my back to the window.
I was trapped. Every exit was blocked, and the minions of the law were advancing.
"It's not that easy!" I shouted. "Better cops than you have tried to capture Slippery Jim
diGriz! All have failed. Better a --clean death than sordid captivity!"
Behind the attacking hordes I could see my sweet Angelina blowing me a farewell kiss. I gave her
a last wave as I tensed
my legs and sprang backwards.
"Thus ends the saga of the Stainless Steel Rat!" My words were followed instantly by the crash of
breaking glass, as I burst through the window and hurtled out into the night.
Falling. Twisting and turning as I did. So that I hit the waters of the canal in a clean dive
that took me under in a curving arc, I did not break the surface again until I was some meters
away and concealed by the darkness.
It was a happy end to a pleasant evening; I hummed to myself as I did an easy breaststroke
through the darkness. I had brought joy to this dull planet, at least for a few brief moments. The
police had reluctantly indulged in a bit of exercise. Now they could relax and fill out the
endless reports so dear to the copper's heart. The news reporters would have something interesting
to write about—for a change—and the populace in turn would be fascinated by the exciting events of
the evening. I really should be treated as a benefactor of
4 The Stainless Steel Rat for President
mankind—not a criminal. But there is no justice, I knew that,
so I just swam on.
Number twenty-two was a safe house located in one of the
more repellent districts of Blodgett City. Angelina would know what the number meant and would
join me there. Meanwhile, there was little chance that my sodden clothing would draw the attention
of anyone foolish enough to be abroad in these mean streets. There was one hidden entrance to the
house that began in a public toilet, which I used now as being the most appropriate. In the house
I left a trail of ruined clothing down the hallway to the bath, where a steaming shower relaxed
and restored me. I was dressed again in fresh garments and sipping a«reviving drink when Angelina
let herself in by a more acceptable doorway. "A remarkable exit," she said.
"I hoped you would enjoy it." I pointed. "You have left the door open by mistake, my sweet."
"No mistake, my love," she answered. As an attacking herd of policemen thundered through behind
her. "Betrayed!" I shrieked, leaping to my feet. "Et tu. Brute?" "I'll explain," she said, coming
towards me.
"Mere words will not explain treachery!" I shouted as I dived around her towards the escape
panel in the wall. She extended a delicate foot that caught my ankle and sent me sprawling
headlong. Before I could rise again the hordes of policemen had fallen upon me.
I'm good—but not that good. Sheer weight of numbers overwhelmed me. The first two attackers
dropped unconscious, as did the next two. But someone had a armlock on me and as I was breaking
this hold another policeman got me by the ankle. And so on. Roaring with rage, like a giant pulled
down by ants, I fell beneath the onslaught. My last act was to free my right arm long enough to
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take the jeweled policeman's badge from my pocket and flip it across the room to land at
Angelina's feet.
"Here!" I ululated. "You deserve that. Not as a souvenir as I had planned, but as a decoration
honoring your new and traitorous alliance with the police!"
"How charming," she said, picking it up, then stepping forward and swinging a sharp uppercut
that caught me square
on the jaw. "And that is your decoration for mistrusting your wife. Release the creature."
I dropped, stunned, as the restraining hands let go. Angelina throws a mean punch. When the
whirling constellations had vanished, and vision returned, I saw her handing the badge back to the
policeman at her side.
"This is Captain Kretin," she said, "who tried to speak to
you earlier this evening. Are you ready to listen now?" I muttered something that even I couldn't
understand and stumbled to the nearest chair, rubbing my jaw and feeling immensely sorry for
myself. The captain spoke.
"As I have been explaining to your charming wife, Mr. diGriz, we merely want you to aid in an
investigation. A man has been found, brutally murdered . . ."
"I didn't do it! I was out of town at the time! I want my lawyer..." "Jim, darling, listen to
the nice policeman." It was the way she said darling that sent ice water through
6 The Stainless Steel Rat for President
my veins. I shut up. My Angelina can be deadly when provoked.
"You misunderstand; no one is accusing you of the crime. We just need your aid in attempting to
solve this hideous felony. This is the first murder we have had on Blodgett in a hundred and
thirteen years, so we are kind of out of practice with this sort of thing."
The captain took out his notebook to refresh his memory, then carried on in a boring and
monotonous voice. "Earlier this afternoon, at approximately thirteen hundred hours, there was a
disturbance in the Zaytoun district of this city, not far from your place of residence. Witnesses
reported three men running from the scene of th~ crime. The police were summoned and found the
victim of the assault, who had been brutally stabbed a number of times. He died without regaining
consciousness. His pockets were empty, his wallet missing, he had no identification of any kind on
his person. However, during the subsequent post mortem examination a piece of paper was found in
his mouth. This is the piece of paper." He held out a wrinkled scrap, and I took it up gingerly.
Scrawled on it were the words STAINLUS STEAL RATA.
"Whoever wrote this doesn't spell too well," I muttered, brain still addled from Angelina's tiny
but deadly fist.
"A remarkable observation," she said, looking over my shoulder. Her tone of voice was not a
sympathetic one. The policeman droned on.
"It is our theory that the victim was attempting to contact
you. If this is so, then the indications are that he put the paper into his mouth when he was
attacked, in order to conceal its presence from his assailants. Here is his picture. We would like
to ascertain the dead man's identity." He passed it over. I biinked my eyes into focus and stared
at it. I was depressed. I have seen corpses before so that part didn't bother. It was a good
holograph, in three-dimensional color, clear and sharp. I turned it around and around—then handed
it back.
"That's all very interesting," I said. "But in all truth I have
never seen this man before."
They didn't want to believe me, but' in the end they had no choice. I could see that they were
sure that I was lying—even though I was telling them the absolute truth. They left after
some more futile questions, carrying away three of their party
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who had not regained consciousness. I went to the bar to mix
us some strong drinks, since it had turned out to be a very trying evening. But when I turned
about with the glasses in my hands I found the point of a very sharp kitchen knife about one
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centimeter from my left eyeball.
"Now what was that you said about my being a traitor?" Angelina asked in a warm, cold voice;
honey over ice.
"My love!" I gasped, stepping backwards. The knife moved with me, never changing its relative
position. I felt the sweat break out on the nape of my neck as I began lying swiftly. "How could
you be so heartless? So misunderstanding? When the police appeared I was sure they had captured
you, forced
you to lead them here against your will. So I called you a traitor so they would think you were
not involved in whatever charge they were arresting me on. I did it but to protect you my
dearest!"
"Oh, Jim, I have been so cruel to you!" The knife clattered to the floor and she had her arms
about me and I juggled fiercely not to spill the drinks down her back. Her arms were strong, her
embrace warm, her kisses passionate. And I felt like a rat.
"There, there," I gasped after we came up for air. "Just a misunderstanding. Now let us drink
our drinks and try to figure out just what the hell is going on around here." "Were you really
telling them the truth? You've never seen the dead man before?"
"The truth and nothing but! I know that I have broken my long-standing rule of never telling the
police anything that might aid them in the slightest. It can't hurt, just this once. The man's an
absolute stranger."
"Then let us find out who he is." She took the holograph from behind the seat of the sofa where
she had concealed it. "I took this from the captain's pocket as he left. There is no need to
involve the local police in Special Corps matters. I'll get on to the local agent at once."
She was right of course. This affair undoubtedly had ramifications that stretched far beyond
this backward planet. Since identity records here were exhaustively complete it meant that the
dead man had to be from off-planet. Which meant that the case now was the responsibility of the
legendary, galaxy-wide, professional, superior and all-embracing police force known only as the
Special Corps. Of which organization I can say, in all modesty, I am the most important member.
8 The Stainless Steel Rat for President
"We'll need more identification than this picture," I said, handing it back to her. "Have the
agent meet us here. I'll be back within the hour with everything that he will need for the
investigation."
I slipped a toolkit into my pocket before leaving. The city morgue was not too distant—which
will give you a good idea of the kind of neighborhood this is—and I went through a back window and
three locked doors without slowing down. I pick locks the way others pick their teeth.
I slid out the drawer of the cooler and stared down at the corpse. The glimmering hope that he
might be familiar in the frozen flesh vanished. The mystery remained. It took but seconds to
scrape off fragments of skin, clip hair samples— and extract dirt from under the man's nails. His
clothes had been carefully filed and labeled by the police. I located them and took samples of
these as well. And still more scrapings from his shoes. After this I went out the way that I had
gotten in—and no one knew of either my arrival or departure. This minor operation had gone so
smoothly that I returned to the safe house just as the Special Corps agent was letting himself in
through the public convenience.
"Nice weather today, Mr. diGriz," he said, adjusting his clothing.
"It's always nice on Blodgett, Charley. That's why I hate it. When is the next shipment going
out to headquarters?" "A couple of hours. The weekly bag. I'm taking it myself." "Perfect. I want
you to take along these containers. Tell the lab to use every possible test on these samples.
Here's a picture of the late deceased that I took them from. Get me gene tests, pollen tests,
blood groups, ethnotyping, everything and anything they can think of. I want to know who this
man is—or was. If he can't be identified I want to know where he came from. He was looking for
me—and I'm very interested in finding out why. "
The answer came in a surprisingly short time. Just three days later the front door bell rang and
I looked into the
scanner to see that the good and faithful Charley had returned. I let him in and reached out for
the sealed case he was carrying. He pulled it away and chewed nervously at his lower lip. I
growled deep in my throat and he cringed even more.
"I got orders, Mr. diGriz. From Inskipp, the supreme,.
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our Commander-in-Chief."
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"And what does that dear, sweet man have to say for himself?" "He says that you have forged some
checks on the Corps secret account and he wants the seventy-five thousand credits back before he
releases any more information to a depraved crook..." "You're calling me a depraved crook!"
He whinnied with fear as he scurried away from my grasping fingers.
"No! You got me wrong! I didn't say that—Inskipp did. I'm just quoting him like he told me to."
"The bearer of ill-tidings should be killed as well," I snarled, my fingers still snapping in
anger. I reached for him again but Angelina appeared suddenly and stepped between us. She held out
a check to Charley.
"Here is the money we borrowed from the account. A simple error in bookkeeping, wouldn't you
say?" "I sure would! I do the same thing myself sometimes." He wiped the sweat from his brow and
passed over the case. "If
you will kindly give this to your husband I'll be moving on. A busy day coming up, ha-ha." "The
door slammed behind his back and I took the case from Angelina, pretending that I did not see the
angry flare of her nostrils.
"This is it," I said, pressing my thumb on the security latch. The case fell open, a screen
lifted up and glowed with life. Inskipp's depressing features looked out at me and I almost
dropped the thing. Angelina must have seen my expression because she took the case from my hands
and placed it on the end table. The imaged Inskipp glowered and snarled and shook a piece of paper
in my direction.
"You've got to stop stealing this organization's money, diGriz. It sets a bad example for the
troops. You will have paid back your last embezzlement by now or you wouldn't be listening to this
message. It's only because of our interest in ParaisoAqui that I am talking to you now." "What is
Paraiso-Aqui?" I said aloud.
The image nodded sagely. "By now you are asking yourself what is Paraiso-Aqui. " The smugness
and self-assurance of the
man. How easy it is to hate your boss. Particularly when he is one jump ahead of you. "Well I'll
tell you. It is the home world of the murdered man you asked the lab to track down. I want you to
go there and have a look at this planet. Then come and report to me. If you will read the document
enclosed hprp vnii will niiirklv <f»p whafr niir intprpt i«
10 The Stainless Steel Rat for President
The image vanished and the screen went dark. I flipped the screen back into its well and took up
the envelope that had been concealed beneath it.
"This is very interesting," I said, quickly flipping through the printed sheets. "In what way?"
"Because not only don't I know the man who was trying to
see me—but I have never in my life heard of his home world before."
"Well . . . we are just going to have to do something about that, aren't we?"
"We certainly are!" I said, smiling in return. "We are just going to have to grit our teeth and
obey Inskipp's instructions. Like it or not we will have to visit this mysterious planet."
Angelina nodded and we just stood there grinning like fools. Knowing—without knowing how we
knew—that the present period of peaceful boredom was at an end. The future was already looking
brighter. I felt it in my bones. Something very unusual and highly interesting was about to begin.
The travel brochure was heavy and warm to the touch, the
copy on its cover glowing with self-importance. "Come to sunny perfection on the holiday world of
Paraiso-Aqui," I read aloud.
Angelina, sitting at my side, was reading from a more sober and thinner volume, appropriately
bound in black.
"Paraiso-Aqui is a planet that was settled during the first galactic expansion and only recently
rediscovered. It is noteworthy for having the most corrupt form of government in the galaxy."
"A slight difference of opinion between these two sources," I said, rubbing my hands together
with anticipatory glee.
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"Afternoon bouillon, sir?" the steward-robot asked, bowing and scraping before us.
"Not even to bathe in, you mechanized toady," I said. "Ill have a large Altairian panther juice
on the rocks. Better make that two—" "One," Angelina said firmly. "Bouillon for me." "Yes, madam,
delighted, perfect choice, wonderful," the obsequious machine salivated, bowing and nodding and
rubbing its hands together as it writhed away. I hated it. Just as much as I hated everything else
about this space-going cruise ship, the Luxurious Paradise Planet Tour, as well as all of the
repulsive and loathsomely garbed tourists who gathered in shrieking throngs throughout the lounge.
"But we're dressed the same way, my darling," Angelina said. I must have spoken my thoughts aloud
in the passion of the moment. And we were indeed dressed the same way. With a vengeance! I wore a
short-sleeved shirt patterned with hideous purple and yellow blossoms. With shorts to match.
Angelina wore exactly the same outfit, admittedly filling hers out in a far more attractive way.
Also, in the latest holiday fashion, we had our hair dyed blonde and curled into
11
12 The Stainless Steel Rat for President
little green-tipped ringlets. I would have felt like an absolute fool were it not for the fact
that all of our fellow travelers
were garbed and coiffed in an equally repulsive fashion. A perfect disguise, yes, but what a price
it exacted from my free soul! I opened the brochure to reveal a holopic of a deep blue
sea under a light blue sky. The waves stirred and crashed onto the beach with a tiny crashing
sound; a faint smell of sea brine wafted up from the page.
"Happy natives laugh away their days in the sunshine amidst the gustatory glories of sun-ripened
fruit and freshcaught fish. "
Angelina read quietly from her book, a dark counterpoint to mine. "
"The inhabitants live in a condition of near-slavery; poverty and disease is the norm. The rule
of the dictators government is absolute."
"Thirty minutes to planetfall . . . planetfall in thirty minutes," the loudspeakers whispered.
The tourists stirred and squeaked with excitement. I threw my guidebook into the atomic oubliette
where it exploded with a puff of smoke, thin cries echoing from its recorded pages.
"We'll just have to see for ourselves," I said. Angelina handed me the Special Corps report and
I nodded and sent it after the other. "If that is found in our luggage we are finished before we
even begin."
The steward smarmed up and we took our drinks. Angelina smiled across her steaming cup at me.
"Now, don't be a spoilsport, Jim diGriz. This is not only a cover, but is a real holiday as well.
You're going to enjoy it if I have to throttle
you into submission. Think of it as a second honeymoon— no, afirst one! We never did have a proper
one."
"Aren't we a little late? After all the twins are almost twenty years old . . ."
"Which makes me hideous, middle-aged and unattractive I suppose?" There was ice in her words and
menace in her voice, I threw my drink aside—it ate a hole in the carpet where it fell—and dropped
on my knees before her.
"Angelina mine! Light of my life! More beautiful with each passing day!" Which was true enough;
she was curved and warm and lovely, with more of her delicate pink skin out of the holiday outfit
than in it. I seized her hands and kissed her fingers passionately and all of the tourists cheered
while she smiled and nodded.
The Stainless Steel Rat for President 13
"That's more like it," she said. "A little holiday from crime will do us both a world of good."
"Then we were on the ground and the lock was opened;
warm air and sweet music rolled in from outside. I settled my camera around my neck, put on my
sunglasses, took Angelina by the arm and joined the ecstatic throng. Their happiness
was catching. Angelina caught it, smiling and laughing with the others, humming along with the
catchy music. I was immune. I chortled and grimaced with the best of them, but inside it was the
same old hot-tempered and cold-blooded diGriz who peeped out at the world.
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But it was hard to be a curmudgeon in a place like this. The spaceport was sited at the ocean's
edge; the salt tang in the air was delicious and sharp. The sun was as warm as advertised. Smiling
native girls, bare-busted and buxom, greeting the tourists with wreaths of flowers and tiny
bottles of some golden beverage. I pocketed the bottle and sniffed the flow-
ers, pretending indifference to the mammalian magnificence on all sides, knowing full well that
Angelina had her steely eyes on me. The crowd of voyagers moved forward so smoothly that within a
few moments we were facing the official at passport control. He was as brown-skinned and smiling
as the girls, but was wearing a shirt, no doubt to demonstrate his executive position.
"Bonvenu al faraiso-Aqui," he said, extending his hand. "Viaj pasportoj, mi petas."
"So you speak Esperanto on this planet," I said, responding in the same language as I passed
over my interstellar identity card. Forged of course.
"Not everyone," he said, still smiling, as he slipped the card into the machine before him. "Our
language is the beautiful Espanol. But everyone you will meet will speak Esperanto, have no fear."
He looked at the machine's screen while he talked, which of course revealed nothing except the
blandest untrue information about me. When he returned the card he pointed to the gadget-covered
camera about my neck.
"That is indeed a fine photographic apparatus you have there."
"It should be—cost me more credits than you see in a year I bet, ho-ho."
"Ho-ho," ;he echoed, the smile not quite so sincere now. "May I look at this machine?"
14 The Stainless Steel Rat for President
"Why? It's just a camera." "There are certain regulations about cameras, you see." "Why? Got
something to hide?"
The smile was definitely pasted on now and his fingers
were twitching. I smiled back—then passed over the camera. "Careful now, that's a delicate
machine."
He took it from me and the back instantly sprang open. As it had been rigged to do. Coils of
film rolled out. I grabbed it back.
"Now look what you've gone and done!" I wailed. "Spoiled all the film of my wife and our friends
on the ship, and everything."
I struggled with the film and ignored his apologies—and walked past_him with Angelina at my
side. All according to plan. Our luggage was clean and we had no concealed devices about our
persons. But the camera was a masterpiece of complicated gadgetry. It would take pictures—and do a
number of other interesting things, all of which were strictly illegal. The day was starting well.
"My goodness, look at that!" Angelina squealed, an exact imitation of the other squeals rising
on all sides. "Are they dangerous?" "What are they?"
"Please, ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention. " A uniformed guide spoke to us
through a voice amplifier. "My name is Jorge and I am your tourist representative. If you have any
questions, please come to me. I will now
answer the first question that I know you are all asking. These friendly creatures between the
traces of the little wag-
ons are known as caballos in our language. Their history is lost in the midst of time, but the
story is told that they came with us from the legendary planet called Earth, or Dirt, the fabled
home of mankind. They are our friends, harmless creatures who pull our wagons and till our fields.
Unprotesting and happy, they will convey you to your hotels. We leave!"
The cabaUos, and their rickety wagons, combined to provide one of the most uncomfortable modes
of transportation I had ever had the misfortune to experience. And they weren't caballos at all
but hay-burning horses which I had encountered before during an unplanned trip through time to
Earth, the very real and unlegendary home of all mankind. But I wasn't mentioning that in the
present company. Who, despite
The Stainless Steel Rat for President 15
the discomfort of the journey, were laughing and calling out shrilly to each other. Even Angelina
seemed to be enjoying herself. I felt like a skeleton at a wedding.
"Whee," I said, attempting to get into the spirit of the thing. I dug into my pocket and
extracted the bottle of amber liquid the welcoming girl had given me. Undoubtedly some loathsome
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native concoction made from rotted fruit or old socks. I uncapped it and drained it. "Whee!" I
said, and meant it this time. I called to Jorge who had the nerve to actually straddle and ride
one of the horses. He thundered
over at my command. I held up the bottle for his examination.
"What is this stuff, pardner? Liquid sunshine? Best booze I have tasted since I was weaned."
"We are pleased that you like it. It is made from the fermented juice of the cana and is called
ron." "Well, baby, this ron stuff is something else again. Only thing wrong with it is that it
comes in such small bottles."
"In all sizes," he laughed, and dug into his saddle bag to extract another bottle of more
reasonable dimension.
"How can I ever thank you?" I enthused, snatching it from his grip.
"Easily. It will appear on your bill." He galloped away, "Not going to get polluted this early in
the day, are you?" Angelina asked as I lowered the bottle from my lips and sighed.
"Never, my sweet. Just getting in the old holiday mood. Join me?" "Later. I'm enjoying the
scenery now."
It was indeed something to see. Our road wandered in easy loops down through green fields to the
shore. The sand glistened cleanly in the sun and the blue ocean beckoned. Very nice. But where
were the locals? Other than the drivers and Jorge there were none of them in sight. We were
getting the tourist treatment all right. Fine, Jim, enjoy it for the moment. Don't .be a
spoilsport.
"Why look there, papa," one of my fellow tourists called out in ringing tones, "Aren't they just
too cute for words?" I looked there and didn't think they were cute at all. If anything they
looked kind of miserable despite the smiles directed our way. A group of men and women were
working in the field beside the road. Cutting down the tall green plants with long and lethal-
looking knives. The sun was hot, the work hard, and if they weren't fatigued and drenched
16 The Stainless Steel Rat for President
•with sweat they weren't human. I raised the camera and clicked off some shots.
Our driver turned about in his seat when he heard the buzz of the mechanism—so I photographed
him as well. For
a moment his fixed smile almost slipped, then his white teeth shone in a grin.
"You must save your film for the beautiful gardens and the beautiful hotel," he said.
"Why? Is there anything wrong with taking pictures of the people working in the fields?" "No, of
course not, but it is so uninteresting." "Not to the people there. They looked tired. How many
hours a day do they work?" •* "I have no way of knowing those things." "What do they get paid?"
I was talking to his back. He shook the reins and did not answer me. I caught Angelina's eye and
winked. She nodded back.
"I think I'll try some of that ron now," she said.
The hotel was as luxurious as promised, our quarters expensively attractive. Our luggage was
waiting—well-searched no doubt—and I left Angelina to do the unpacking. Since I was
sure that all of my fellow tourists were male chauvinist pigs— unlike me—1 was forced to fall into
that role no matter how personally unattractive I found it.
"See you around when you finish that, honey," I said, then quickly slipped out the door before I
could hear her forceful rejoinder.
I pottered about the grounds, looked in on the bar, then stopping awhile by the swimming pool. I
started to take a photograph of a few of the attractively nude female sunbathers, then desisted
when a chill passed through me at the thought of Angelina's reaction if she happened to run across
this picture. Very possessive, my wife, and I loved it. I think. I wandered on and found the
tourist shop.
It took an effort not to shudder at the little ships made of gilded clamshells, the cutesy
sailor caps lettered with inspiring messages such as KISS ME YOU MAD, PASSIONATE FOOL! and KEEP ON
CLANKING! With averted eyes I passed them and went on to a section filled with souvenir cards and
guide books. I was looking them over when a soft voice spoke in my ear.
"May I help you, sir?"
The Stainless Steel Rat for President 17
Lovely, young, limpid eyes, fall of figure, golden of skin, ruby-lipped and as exotic as a tiger
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. . ,
"You certainly can!" I said hoarsely, then restrained my enthusiasm. Not with Angelina on the
same planet! "I want
. . . that is I want a guide book."
"We have many excellent ones. Anything in particular?" "Yes. A history of Paraiso-Aqui. Not a
propaganda puff for tourists, but something real. Do you have anything like that?"
She penetrated me with a low and smoky gaze—before turning to the shelves. When she turned back
she had a thick volume in her hand that she extended to me.
"I think you will find what you want in here," she said before turning lithely and walking
slowly away.
To work, Jim! I told myself, pulling my eyeballs away from her fascinating form and fixing them
on the book before me.
A Social and Economic History of Paraiso-Aqui. Wonderful. Sounded like a best seller. I
flipped through it and instantly found the piece of paper between its pages. There were block
letters printed on it which I could read without removing it from its lair.
BEWARE! DO NOT BE SEEN WITH THIS!
A sudden shadow obscured the page; I closed the book and looked up. A heavyset local stood
before me. Smiling insincerely.
"I would like that book," he said, extending his hand.
I could see the word as clearly as if he had it painted on his forehead. COP. That was the word.
Policeman. A familiar breed around the galaxy.
"My goodness, what do you want my poor little book for?" I asked.
"That is not your concern. Give."
"No. " I stepped back, trembling with mock fear. He smiled coldly at this and reached out to
take the book from my cowardly hands.
Mv holiday was beeinnine at last!
I let him get both hands on the book before I reached out and grabbed his rather prominent nose
and gave it a strong tweak. For no reason other than sadism, I am forced to admit. He roared with
rage, revealing a mouth full of crooked teeth badly in need of dental attention. Then his mouth
closed, as did his eyes, as he dropped heavily to the floor. A strong finger jabbed firmly into
the nerve ganglion of the solar plexus will produce instant unconsciousness. I turned
away from the scene of this minor triumph to find one of the locals, in hotel staff uniform,
standing behind me. Eyes like
saucers, mouth slightly agape.
"He must have been very tired to fall asleep like that," I said. "But this planet is so
relaxing. I want to buy this book. " He biinked down at the cover and found his voice. "I am
sorry, but that is not one of our books."
Now it was my turn to blink. "It must be. I saw the other clerk take it from the shelf. " "There
is no other clerk. Just myself."
Realization penetrated. I shrugged and turned to leave. No clerk and no book. I had been set up,
that was obvious. And
as soon as sleeping beauty recovered the minions of the law would be howling on my tail. How nice
of them to supply
some diversions for me on this boring holiday world. Angelina was just slipping into a bathing
suit when I returned, which instantly triggered my libido. After a brisk session of kissing and
smooching she gently pushed me away.
"We must go on holiday more often if it will bring out the healthy beast in you like that. What
is the book?" "Nothing at all. I just picked it up. Let us go for a stroll on the beach so I can
see if your swimsuit matches the sand." I produced a roll of the eyes as I said this. She nodded
slightly, showing she understood.
"Wonderful. Let me find my sandals."
18
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The Stainless Steel Rat for President 19
We exited in silence and it wasn't until we were walking at the water's edge, far from any of
the buildings, that she spoke.
"Do you think the room is bugged?"
"Don't know. I just didn't want to chance it when I opened this book." I explained what had
happened as I found the note and slipped it from between the pages. There were a few brief lines
of writing inside it that we read in silence.
The people of this planet desperately need your help. Aid us, we beg. Please walk on the beach
alone at 2400 this night.
There was no signature. I bent and scooped up a handful of water and pulped the note in it, then
kicked the shreds into the sand as I walked.
"I wonder who they are?" Angelina asked. I nodded solemn agreement to this.
"That is the important question, isn't it? I was obnoxious to the passport official, took
photographs of the laboring peasantry—and asked nosy questions. My presence is known. I am
contacted. But, as you so rightly ask—by whom? This note could be from the desperate citizens of
Paraiso-Aqui, anxious that the galaxy be informed of their plight . . ." "Or it could be a trap
set by the security forces to get you into trouble."
"My thoughts exactly. But I have no choice. Behind the barn at midnight to meet my destiny.
Though it may be difficult."
"Why?" she asked, squinting deliciously up at me in the actinic glare of the sun.
"Because that heavy is going to come looking for me when he recovers consciousness. We don't
know who left the note— but I am certain of the policeman's identity. "
"Then that takes care of your midnight appointment. When the police come for you, why then you
just lead them a merry chase, something I know you always enjoy. And I will keep the appointment
in your place." "Dearest! The danger!"
She smiled warmly and squeezed my arm tenderly. "How sweet! You're worried about me."
"No, not in the slightest. Just concerned for the safety of this other lot if they try some
funny business with you."
20 The Stainless Steel Rat for President
"Beast," she said, her gentle grip changing to an iron claw that bit deep into my bicep. Then
she smiled. "But you're right, of course. Things have been quiet. I rather hope that whoever is
coming does try on something funny." "It's settled then." I rubbed at my bruised arm. "Let's get
back to the room and order up some food. I don't want to do
a lot of running around on an empty stomach. " The first thing we saw when we came into the room
was the unconscious man stretched out on the floor beside the bed, his arms still reaching towards
my camera which was resting innocently in the middle of the counterpane.
"That's number one," I said. "He let himself in to wait for
us, then passed the time by trying to take a look at the camera. Automatic sleeping gas release
got him." "Police," Angelina said, going quickly through his pockets. "Identification, gun,
blackjack, handcuffs, hunting knife and stun grenades. A very nasty type."
"Agreed. All is not paradise on Paraiso-Aqui. You had better keep the camera with you. I'll just
slip a few items out of it to take with me. Now let us order the food before we have any more
visitors."
Room service was fast and efficient. Within a few minutes the waiter arrived, wheeling in a
trolley heavy-laden with succulent goodies. Unhappily two uniformed policemen wheeled in right
behind him.
"Leave this room at once," Angelina said, stepping forward to block their way. "You have not
been invited in." The waiter cringed back and I began to quickly slap together a sandwich. It
wasn't going to be eat and run—but on the run.
"Move aside woman," the first blue-jawed and ugly copper said. If he had left it at that he
would have been much happier. But he made the mistake of putting one meaty hand
on her shoulder to push her aside.
He had time for a single pained shriek, I heard the unmistakable crackle of breaking bone,
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file:///F|/rah/Harry%20Harrison/Harrison,%20Harry%20-%20The%20Sta...at%205%20-%20The%20Stainless%20Steel%20Rat%20For%20President.txtTheStainlessSteelRatforPresidentbyHarryHarrison"Canyouthinkofaspecialtoast?"Iasked,watchingcloselyasthewaiterfilledourglasseswiththesparklingvintagewine.~"Icertainlycan,"mydearAngelinasaid,raisingherglassandlookingacrossitstraightintomyeyes."Tomyhusband,JimdiGriz,whohasjustsavedtheuniverse.Again."Iwastouched.Particularlybytheagain.SinceIambynatureextremelymodes...

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