Harry Harrison - SSR 08 - The Stainless Steel Rat Sings the

file:///F|/rah/New%20Folder/New%20Folder%20(16)/ssrstb.htm

scanned and delivered by "Auld Reader."

Greets to all at NAL, to Citizen 513, and all bookwarez folks!

This is version 1.0. If you correct errors, please increment by .1 and redistribute.

The Stainless Steel Rat Sings

the Blues

by Harry Harrison

CHAPTER 1

Walking up the wall had not been easy. But walking across the ceiling was turning out to be completely

impossible. Until I realized that I was going about it the wrong way. It seemed obvious when I thought

about it. When I held onto the ceiling with my hands I could not move my feet. So I switched off the

molebind gloves and swung down, hanging only from the soles of my boots. The blood rushed to my head-

as well it might bringing with it a surge of nausea and a sensation of great unease.

What was I doing here, hanging upside down from the ceiling of the Mint, watching the machine below

stamp out five-hundred-thousand-credit coins? They jingled and fell into the waiting baskets-so the

answer to that question was pretty obvious. I nearly fell after them as I cut the power on one foot. f swung

it forward in a giant step and slammed it solidly against the ceiling again as I turned the binding energy

back on. A generator in the boot emitted a field of the same binding energy that holds molecules together,

making my foot, at least temporarily, a part of the ceiling. As long as the power was on.

A few more long steps and I was over the baskets. I fumbled at my waist, trying to ignore the dizziness,

and pulled out the cord from my oversized belt buckle. Bending double until could reach up to the ceiling,

I pushed the knob at the end against the plaster and switched it on. The molebind field damped hard and I

released my feet. To hang, swinging, right side up now, while the blood seeped out of my florid face.

"Come on Jim-no hanging about," I advised myself. "The alarm will go off any second now."

Right on cue the sirens screamed, the lights blinked, while a gargantuan hooter thundered through the

walls. I did not tell myself that I told me so. No time. Thumb on the power button so that the immensely

strong, almost invisible, single-molecule cord whirred out of the buckle and dropped me swiftly down.

When my outstretched hands clinked among the coins I stopped. Opened my attaché case and dragged it

clanking through the coins until it was full of the shining, shimmering beauties.

file:///F|/rah/New%20Folder/New%20Folder%20(16)/ssrstb.htm (1 of 167) [1/15/03 12:18:54 AM]

file:///F|/rah/New%20Folder/New%20Folder%20(16)/ssrstb.htm

Closed and sealed it as the tiny motor buzzed and dragged me up to the ceiling again. My feet struck and

stuck: I switched off power to the lifting lug.

And the door opened below me.

"Somebody coulda come in here!" the guard shouted, his weapon nosing about him. "The door alarm

went off."

"Maybe-but I don't see nothin'," the second guard said.

They looked down and around. But never up. I hoped. Feeling the sweat rolling up my face. Collecting

there. Dropping

I watched with horror as the droplets spattered down onto the guard's helmet.

"Next room!" he shouted, his voice drowning out the splat of perspiration. They rushed out, the door

closed, I walked across the ceiling, crawled down the wall, slumped with exhaustion on the floor.

"Ten seconds, no more," I admonished. Survival was a harsh taskmaster. What had seemed like a good

idea at the time maybe really was a good idea. But right now I was very sorry I had ever seen the

newsflash.

Ceremonial opening of new Mart on Paskonjak . . . planet often called Mintworld . . . first half-million-

credit coins ever issued . . . dignitaries and press invited.

It had been like the sound of the starting gun to a sprinter.

I was off. A week later I was stepping out of the space terminal on Paskonjak, bag in hand and forged

press credentials in pocket. Even the massed troops and tough security had not tempered my madness.

The machines in my case were immune from detection by any known security apparatus; the case

projected a totally false image of its contents when radiation hit it. My step had been light, my smile

broad.

Now my face was ashen and my legs trembled with fatigue as I pushed myself to my feet.

"Look calm, look collected-think innocence."

I swallowed a calm-and-collected pill that was coated with instant uppers. One, two, three paces to the

door, my face flushed with pride, my gait noble, my conscience pure.

file:///F|/rah/New%20Folder/New%20Folder%20(16)/ssrstb.htm (2 of 167) [1/15/03 12:18:54 AM]

file:///F|/rah/New%20Folder/New%20Folder%20(16)/ssrstb.htm

I put on my funky bejeweled spectacles and looked through the door. The ultrasound image was fuzzy.

But clear enough to reveal figures hurrying past. When they were gone I unlocked the door, slipped

through and let it close behind me.

Saw the rest of my party of journalists being pushed down the corridor by screaming, gun-waving troops.

Turned and marched firmly away in the opposite direction and around the bend.

The guard stationed there lowered his gun and pointed it at my belt buckle.

"La necesejo estas cc tae?" I said, smiling smarmily.

"What you say? What you doin' here?"

"Indeed?" I snorted through widened nostrils. "Rather short on education, particularly a knowledge of

Esperanto, aren't we? If you must know, speaking in the vulgar argot of this planet-I was told that the

men's room was down here."

"Well it ain't. Da udder way."

"You're too kind."

I turned and strolled diffidently down the hall. Had taker. three steps before reality penetrated his sluggish

synapses.

"Come back here, you!"

I stopped and turned about, pointed past him. "Down that way?" I asked. The gas projector I had palmed

when my back was turned towards him hissed briefly. His eyes closed and he dropped; I took the gun

from his limp hands as he fell by. Placed it on his sleeping chest since it was of no help to me. Walked

briskly past him and pushed open the door to the emergency stairs. Closed and leaned against it and

breathed very deeply. Then took out the map that had been in the press kit and poked my finger on the

symbol for stairs. Now, down to the storeroom . . . footsteps sounded below.

Up. Quietly on soft soles. A change of plan was very much in order since the alarm had sounded, ruling

out a simple exit with the crowd. Up, five, six ,flights until the steps ended in a door labeled KROV.

Which probably meant roof in the local language.

There were three different alarms that I disabled before I pushed the door open and slipped through.

Looked around at the usual rooftop clutter; water tanks, vents, aircon units-and a goodsized smokestack

puffing out pollution. Perfect.

The moneybag clunked as I dropped all my incriminating weapons and tools into it. My belt buckle

file:///F|/rah/New%20Folder/New%20Folder%20(16)/ssrstb.htm (3 of 167) [1/15/03 12:18:54 AM]

file:///F|/rah/New%20Folder/New%20Folder%20(16)/ssrstb.htm

twisted open and I took out the reel and motor. Attached the molebind plug from the suspension cord to

the bag, then lowered it all down the chimney. Reaching down as far as I could I secured the reel

mechanism to the inside of the pipe.

Done. It would wait there as long as needed, until all the excitement calmed down. An investment waiting

to be collected you might say. Then, armed only with my innocence, I retraced my course back down the

stairs and on to the ground floor.

The door opened and closed silently and there was a guard, back turned, standing close enough to touch.

Which I did, tapping him on the shoulder. He shrieked, jumped aside, turned, lifted his gun.

"Didn't mean to startle you," I said sweetly. "Afraid I got separated from my party. The press group . . ."

"Sergeant, I got someone," he burbled into the microphone on his shoulder. "Me, yeah, Private Izmet, post

eleven. Right. Hold him. Got that." He pointed the gun between my eyes. "Don't move?"

"I have no intention of that, I assure you."

I admired my fingernails, plucked a bit of fluff from my jacket, whistled; tried to ignore the wavering gun

muzzle. There was the thud of running feet and a squad led by a grim looking sergeant rushed up.

"Good afternoon, Sergeant. Can you tell me why this soldier is pointing his weapon at me? Or rather why

you are all pointing your weapons at me?"

"Grab his case. Cuff him. Bring him." A man of few words, the sergeant.

The elevator they hustled me to had not been marked on the map issued to the journalists. Nor had the

map even hinted at the many levels below the ground floor that penetrated deep into the bowels of the

earth. The pressure hit my eardrums as we dropped about as many floors down as you usually go up in a

skyscraper. My stomach sank as well as I realized I had bitten off a good deal more than I could possibly

chew. Pushed out at some subterranean level, dragged through locked, barred gates, one after another,

until we finally reached a singularly depressing room. Traditionally bare with unshielded lights and a

backless stool. I sighed and sat.

My attempts at conversation were ignored, as was my press pass. Which was taken from me along with

my shoes-then the rest of my clothes. I pulled on the robe of itchy black burlap that they gave me,

dropped back into the chair and made no attempt to outstare my guards.

To be frank this was a kind of a low point, made even lower when the effects of the calm-and-collected

pill began to wear off. Just about the time my morale hit bottom the loudspeaker gurgled

incomprehensible instructions and I was hurried down the hall to another room. The lights and stool were

the same-but this time they faced a steel desk with an even steelier-eyed officer behind it. His glare spoke

file:///F|/rah/New%20Folder/New%20Folder%20(16)/ssrstb.htm (4 of 167) [1/15/03 12:18:54 AM]

file:///F|/rah/New%20Folder/New%20Folder%20(16)/ssrstb.htm

for him as he pointed to my dissected clothing, bag, shoes.

"I am Colonel Neuredan - and you are in trouble."

"Do you always treat interstellar journalists like this?"

"Your identity is false." His voice had all the warmth of two rocks being grated together. "Your shoes

contain molebind projectors .

"There's no law against that!"

"There is on Paskonjak. There is a law against anything that threatens the security of the Mint and the

Interstellar Credits produced here."

"I've done nothing wrong."

"Everything that you have done has been wrong. Attempting to deceive our security with false

identification, stunning a guard, penetrating the Mint without supervision-these are all crimes under our

law. What you have committed so far makes you liable for fourteen concurrent life sentences." His grim

voice grew even grimmer. "But there is even worse than that-"

"What could be worse than fourteen life sentences?" Despite my efforts at calm control I could hear my

voice cracking.

"Death. That is the penalty for stealing from the Mint."

"I haven't stolen anything!" Definitely a quaver now.

"That will be determined very shortly. When the decision was made to mint five-hundred-thousand-credit

coins every precaution was taken to prevent their theft. Integral to their fabric is a transponder that listens

for a specific signal at a specific frequency. It answers and reveals the location of the coin."

"Stupid," I said with more bravado than I felt. "Won't work here. Not with all the coins you have made-"

"All now safe behind ten feet of solid lead. Radiation proof. If there are any other coins not in our custody

the signal will sound."

Right on cue I heard the pealing of bells in the distance. The iron face of my inquisitor was touched by a

fleeting cold smile.

"The signal," he said. We sat in silence for long seconds. Until the door burst open and the hurrying

file:///F|/rah/New%20Folder/New%20Folder%20(16)/ssrstb.htm (5 of 167) [1/15/03 12:18:54 AM]

file:///F|/rah/New%20Folder/New%20Folder%20(16)/ssrstb.htm

guards dropped a very familiar bag onto the desk. He lifted the end slowly and the coins jangled forth.

"So that's what they look like. I never

"Silence!" he thundered. "These were removed from the minting room. They were found suspended in the

chimney from the smelter. Along with these other objects."

"Proves nothing."

"Proves everything!" Quick as a snake he grabbed my hands, slammed them onto a plate on his desk. A

hologram of my fingerprints appeared instantly on the air above.

"Any prints lifted from the coins?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Many," a spectral voice responded. A portion of the desk top rose up bearing what appeared to be

photographic prints. He looked at them and for the second time I was treated to the sight of that frigid

smile as he dropped the prints through a slot. A second hologram floated in the air beside the first, moved

over and merged with it as he touched the controls.

The double image flickered and became one.

"Identical!" he said triumphantly. "You can tell me your if you wish. So it can be spelled correctly on

your tomb stone. But only if you wish."

"What do you mean tombstone? And what do you mean death sentence? That's illegal by galactic law!"

"There is no galactic law down here," he intoned with a voice like a funeral march. "There is only the law

of the Mint. Judgment is final."

"The trial . . ." I said feebly, visions of lawyers, appeals, torts and documents dancing in my head.

There was no mercy in his voice now, no touch of the tiniest of iceberg smiles on his lips.

"The penalty for theft in the Mint is death. The trial takes place after the execution."

CHAPTER 2

I am still young-and it did not look like I was going to get any older. My dedication to a life of crime had

led to a far shorter lifespan than could normally be expected. Here I was, not yet twenty years old. A

veteran who had fought in two wars, had been imprisoned and drafted, who had been depressed by the

death of my good friend The Bishop, been impressed by Mark Forer the great Artificial Intelligence. Was

file:///F|/rah/New%20Folder/New%20Folder%20(16)/ssrstb.htm (6 of 167) [1/15/03 12:18:54 AM]

file:///F|/rah/New%20Folder/New%20Folder%20(16)/ssrstb.htm

that it? Had I had it? No more to life than that? All over.

"Never!" I shouted aloud, but the two guards merely gripped my arms the harder and pushed me along the

corridor. A third armed guard went ahead and unlocked the cell door, while the one behind me prodded

my kidneys with the barrel of his gun.

They were good and they took no chances. They were big and mean and I was small and lean. Shivering

with fear, I was crouching even lower. Once the cell door was open the guard with the keys turned

towards me and unlocked my handcuffs.

Then gasped as my knee caught him in the stomach and knocked him back into the cell. At the same time

I grabbed the two guards beside me by the wrists, crossed my arms with a single spasmodic burst of effort

that pulled the two of them crashing together; their skulls bonked nicely. At the same instant I lashed

backward-catching the fourth guard on the bridge of his nose with the back of my head. Everything

happening at approximately the same time.

Two seconds ago I had been bound and captive.

Now one guard was out of sight, groaning in the cell. Two more holding their heads and howling, the

fourth one clutching a bloody nose. They hadn't been expecting this: I had.

I ran. Back the way we had come and through the still open door. Hoarse, angry cries were cut off as I

slammed it shut, locked it. The thick panel shook as heavy bodies thudded against the other side.

"Got you!" a victorious voice shouted and rough hands grabbed me. He could not know by touch that I

was a Black Belt? He found out the hard way.

Eyes closed, breathing easily, he just lay there and made no protest as I stripped him of uniform and

weapons. Nor did he thank me when I draped my burlap robe over his pale form, hiding his black lace

undies from prying eyes. His clothes were not too bad a fit. Not too good either with the cap tilting

forward over my eyes. But it would have to do.

There were three doors leading from this room. The one that I had locked was pounding and bouncing in

its frame: next to it was the one that we had come in through. It didn't take much intelligence to use the

unconscious guard's keys to open the third one.

It led to a storage room. Dark shelves, filled with nameless objects, vanished away into the distance. Not

too promising but I was in no position to choose. I executed a quick leap back to the entrance door,

unlocked it and threw it open, then dived ahead into the storage room. As I closed this final door behind

me, even before I could lock it, there was a mighty crash and screams of anger as the assaultees finally

broke the door down.

file:///F|/rah/New%20Folder/New%20Folder%20(16)/ssrstb.htm (7 of 167) [1/15/03 12:18:54 AM]

file:///F|/rah/New%20Folder/New%20Folder%20(16)/ssrstb.htm

Misdirection wouldn't last long. Run past the shelves. Hide here? No-there would be a thorough search. A

door at the far end, bolted on the inside. I opened it a crack and looked at the empty room beyond.

Opened and stepped through.

And stopped quite still as the guards who were flattened against the wall all pointed guns at me.

"Shoot him!" Colonel Neuredan ordered.

"I'm unarmed!" My gun slid across the floor as I threw my hands into the air. Fingers quivered on triggers-

it was all over.

"Don't shoot-I want him alive. For the moment."

I stood frozen, not breathing until the trigger fingers relaxed. Looked up and quickly found the security

bug in the ceiling. Must be one in every room and corridor down here. They had been watching me all the

time. A good try, Jim. The Colonel grated his teeth horribly and stabbed a finger in my direction.

"Take him. Chain him. Bind him. Bring him."

This was all done with ruthless efficiency. My toes dragged along the floor as I was whisked back to the

cell, stripped at gunpoint, thrown to the floor with my black robe thrown on top of me. The door clanged

shut and I was alone. Very much alone.

"Cheer up, Jim, you've been in worse trouble before," I chirped smilingly. Then snarled, "When?"

Back in the pits again. My abortive attempt at escape had only gained me a few bruises.

"This can't be it!" I shouted. "It can't all end just like this."

"It can-and it will," the Colonel's funereal voice intoned as the cell door opened again. A dozen guns were

pointed at me as a guard brought in a tray with a bottle of champagne on it and a single glass.

I watched in stupefied disbelief as he twisted the cork out. There was a pop and a gush as the golden fluid

filled the glass. He handed it to me.

"What's this, what's this?" I mumbled, staring wide-eyed at the rising bubbles.

"Your last request," Neuredan said. "That and a cigarette."

He took one from a package and lit it, holding it out to me. I shook my head. "I don't smoke." He ground

the cigarette under his heel. "Anyway-champagne and a cigarette that’s not my last request."

file:///F|/rah/New%20Folder/New%20Folder%20(16)/ssrstb.htm (8 of 167) [1/15/03 12:18:54 AM]

file:///F|/rah/New%20Folder/New%20Folder%20(16)/ssrstb.htm

"Yes it is. Forms of last request are standardized by law. Drink."

I drank. It tasted all right. I belched and handed back the glass. "I'll take a refill." Anything to gain time,

to think. I watched the wine being poured and my brain was dull and empty. "You never told me about the

. . . execution."

"Do you want to know?"

"Not really."

"Then I will be pleased to tell you. I assure you that there was extensive deliberation over the correct

method to be used. Thought was given to the firing squad, electrocution, poison gas-a number of

possibilities were actively considered when the law was passed. But all of them involve someone pulling

a switch or a trigger, and that would not be humane to the someone."

"Humane! What about the prisoner?"

"Of no importance. Your death has been decreed and will take place as soon as possible. This is what will

happen. You will be taken to a sealed chamber and chained there. The entrance will be locked. After this

the chamber will be flooded with water by an automatic device actuated by your body heat. It is always

there, always turned on. You alone will be responsible for your own execution. Now isn't that quite

humane?"

"Drowning is humane all of a sudden?"

"Possibly not. But you will be left a pistol containing a single bullet. You can commit suicide if you wish

to."

I opened my mouth to tell him what I thought of their humanity, but I was seized by many hands and

dragged forward before I could speak. The glass was whisked away-and so was I. Deep down to a dank

chamber, walls damp with water and covered with moss. A cuff was clamped around my ankle; a chain

ran from it to a staple in the wall. They all exited except for the Colonel who stood with his hand on the

operating lever of the thick, undoubtedly watertight, door.

He grinned in victorious triumph, bent over and placed an antique pistol on the floor. As I dived for it the

door shut and sealed with a final thud.

Was this really the end? I turned the pistol over in my hands, saw the dull shape of the single cartridge.

End of Jim diGriz, end of the Stainless Steel Rat, end of everything.

There was the distant thank of a valve opening and cold water gushed down on me from a thick pipe in

file:///F|/rah/New%20Folder/New%20Folder%20(16)/ssrstb.htm (9 of 167) [1/15/03 12:18:54 AM]

file:///F|/rah/New%20Folder/New%20Folder%20(16)/ssrstb.htm

the ceiling. It gurgled and slopped, covering my feet, then quickly up to my ankles. When it reached my

waist I lifted the gun and looked at it. Not much of a choice. The water rose steadily. Covered my chest,

up to my chin. I shuddered.

Then the water stopped splashing down. It was cold and I was shivering uncontrollably. The light in the

waterproof fixture revealed only stone wall, dark water.

"What are you playing at bastardacoj?" I shouted; "Humane torture to go with your humane murder?"

A moment later I got my answer. The level began to drop.

"I was right-torturers!" I bellowed. "Torture first-then murder. And you call yourself civilized. Why are

you doing this?"

The last of the water gurgled down the drain and the door slowly opened. I aimed the pistol at it. I

wouldn't mind drowning if I could take the cretinous colonel or the sadistic sergeant with me.

Something dark appeared through the partly open door. The gun banged and the bullet thudded into it. A

briefcase.

"Cease fire!" a male voice called out. "I am your lawyer."

"He only has one bullet, you're safe," I heard the Colonel gay.

The briefcase came hesitantly into the room, carried by a grayhaired man who was wearing the traditional

gold-flecked and diamond decorated black suit that adorned lawyers throughout the galaxy.

"I am your court-appointed lawyer, Pederasis Narcoses."

"What good will you do me-if the trial will be after my execution?"

"None. But that is the law. I will have to interview you now to enable me to conduct your defense at the

trial."

"This is madness-I'll be dead?"

"That is correct. But it is the law." He turned to the Colonel. "I must be alone with my client. That is also

the law."

"You have ten minutes, no longer."

file:///F|/rah/New%20Folder/New%20Folder%20(16)/ssrstb.htm (10 of 167) [1/15/03 12:18:54 AM]

Harry Harrison - SSR 08 - The Stainless Steel Rat Sings the

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: