The Stainless Steel Rat Gets Drafted Read online

  I have heard it said that when a man knows that he is to be hanged, it concentrates his mind wonderfully. I wasn't going to be hanged, not for the present at least, but the foul breath of military prosecution on my neck was concentrating my mind almost as well. So much so that when an officer passed I turned to look at him. Turned and stopped until he vanished in the crowd. Morton was pulling feebly at my arm.

  "What are you looking at? What's wrong?"

  "Nothing wrong. Everything right. I know now exactly what we must do next."

  "What?"

  "Just come with me. I know that it is back this way, I noticed it when we passed."

  "What, what?"

  "BOQ." Before he could say What? What? What? I explained. "Bachelor Officers Quarters. Where the officers live when they are not getting drunk and making life a hell for the enlisted men. That is where we are going. There." I pointed to the brightly lit building, guards at the front entrance, officers in their military finery pouring from it.

  "That's suicide!" Morion said. The edge of hysteria back in his voice.

  "Easy does it," I cozened. "We do not enter the building by this portal. Suicide as you say. But what has a front surely has a back. And from the exodus visible from that officerial snakepit it looks like everyone is on duty tonight. Everyone except us, that is." I chortled darkly and he looked at me out of the corners of his eyes as if I had gone mad. Perhaps I had. We would soon find out.

  There was a wall behind the BOQ which we followed. A sort of alley led next to it, badly lit and just what I wanted. There was a door here let into the wall with a light above it. As we strolled past I read the sign, OFFICERS ONLY, and bent over and tied my shoe: it needed only a single glance to identify the lock. Then stood and on. I stopped in the shadows between two lights and bent to my shoe again. Only this time I came up with the lockpick.

  "All right, here we go. The lock is nothing, single tumbler, pick it as easy as I pick my teeth. We walk back now and if no one is in sight we walk through it. Got that?" The chatter of his teeth was the only response. I took his quivering arm and squeezed it. "It's all right, Morton. You'll see. Just do as I say and we'll soon be safe. Nice and quiet-here we go."

  I tried not to catch any of Morton's fears, but they were very contagious. We stopped under the light, I put the lockpick into the keyhole. Felt and twisted. It didn't open.

  "Someone's coming," Morton wailed.

  "Piece of cake," I muttered, perspiration running down my face. "Opened these with my eyes shut."

  "Getting closer!"

  "Eyes shut!"

  It wouldn't open. I shut my eyes, closed out all sensations, felt for the tumblers. Clicked it open.

  "Inside!" I said, pulling him after me, closing the gate behind us. We stood with our backs to it, shivering in the darkness as the footsteps came closer, came to the gate . . .

  Passed it and went on.

  "There, wasn't that easy?" I said, ruining the effect as my voice cracked and squeaked. Not that Morton noticed; he was shivering so hard that I could hear his teeth clatter. "Look, nice garden. Pathways for strolling, love seats for loving, all the nice things to keep the officerial classes happy. And beyond the garden the dark windows of their quarters, dark because the occupants have all gone out. So now all that we have to do is find a window to open . . ."

  "Jak-what are we doing here?"

  "I thought that was obvious. The military powers are looking for one recruit now. When their computer coughs out the next bit of news they will be looking for a corporal and a sergeant." I tried to ignore his moan. "So we get into this building and become officers. As simple as that." I caught him as he dropped and laid him gently on the grass. "That's it. Have a little rest. I'll be right back." The third window I tried was unlocked. I opened it and looked in. A mussed bed, open closet, empty room. Perfect. I found my way back to Morton who was just sitting up. He recoiled as I appeared out of the darkness and my quick hand over his mouth muffled his scream. "Everything is fine. Almost finished."

  I boosted him through the window and let him drop onto the bed, then closed and locked the window behind us. There was a key in the door which made everything very much easier.

  "Look," I said, "lie here and recuperate. I'm going to lock you in. The building is empty as far as I can see, so what I have to do should not be long. Take a rest and I'll be back as soon as I can."

  I went carefully, but the building was empty of life and silent as the tomb. Its occupants away and hopefully hard at work. I had time to pick and choose, make my selections and select the right sizes. I heard a muffled moan of agony when I let myself back into the room, to which I responded as cheerfully as I could.

  "New uniform-new persona!" I handed them over to Morton. "Get dressed and give me our old clothes. There's enough light from outside to make that easy. Here, let me tie that necktie, you are all butterfingers today." Dressed and ready, our caps square upon our heads, our old clothes buried in a laundry basket, we sauntered forth into the corridor. Morton looked at me and gasped and fell away.

  "Cheer up-you look the same way. Except that you are a second lieutenant while I am a captain. It is a young army."

  "B-but," he stammered. "You are a . . . Military Policeman!"

  "And so are you. No one ever questions a cop." We turned the corner as I said this and approached the front entrance. The major standing there with a clipboard looked up at us and scowled.

  "Now I have you," he said.

  CHAPTER 12

  I snapped to attention, I could think of nothing else to do-and hoped Morton was not too paralyzed to do the same. There were just two of them, the major and the guard at the door. After I dropped the major could I reach the guard before he could get out his gun? A neat problem. The major was looking at his clipboard. Now-get him!

  He looked up as I swayed forward. The guard was looking at me too. I swayed back.

  "I missed you at the airport," the major said. "You must have come on the earlier flight. But these shipping orders say two captains. Who is this lieutenant?"

  Shipping orders? Two captains? I stopped my eyeballs spinning and finally threw my brain into gear.

  "Could be an error, sir. Lot of confusion today. Might I see the orders?"

  He grunted uncommunicatively and passed them over. I ran my finger down the list of crossed-off names to the remaining two at the bottom. Then passed them back.

  "Error like I said, sir. I'm Captain Drem. This is Lieutenant Hesk, not captain the way they got it here."

  "Right," he said, making the change on his sheet. "Let's go-" We went. Outside the door was a truck stuffed with Military Police, a very disgusting sight. The major climbed into the cab, rank does have its privileges, and I led Morton to the rear. Moving quickly because I saw something that I hoped the major had not seen. Two MP officers, both captains, walking toward us. They scowled and passed and turned into the BOQ. I scowled in return, turning the scowl into a glare when I looked into the back of the truck and saw that there were no officers among the redhats there.

  "What is this-a meeting of the girls' club," I snarled. "Move back, make room, shut up, give us a hand." All of this was done with alacrity. Morton and I sat on the recently vacated bench and the truck pulled forward. I let out my breath slowly-from between still-snarling teeth. We bumped and swayed our way through the night and I began to feel very, very tired. It had been that kind of day.

  "Do you know where we are going, captain?" a burly sergeant asked.

  "Shut up!"

  "Thank you, sir."

  There was only silence after this witty exchange. Cold silence that continued until we ground to a stop and the major reappeared. "Climb out," he ordered. "Captain, follow me."

  "Fall these men in, lieutenant," I told Morton. He stumbled after me his face white with despair in the glare of the street lights.

  "How, what, glug," he whispered.

  "Order a sergeant to do it," I whispered back. "Pass the buck, that's the ar
my way."

  I trotted after the major who had stopped before the entrance of a large building and was going through an immense ring of keys. I stood at ease and looked at the large posters beside the door. Then looked closer when I realized they were 3Ds, in living color, of a number of naked young women. When my head moved they moved and I swayed slightly.

  "Knock that off, captain," the major ordered and I snapped to attention, my eyes still focused on the sign that read BASE BURLESQUE-OFFICERS ONLY. The major found the key he was looking for and turned it in the lock. "No performance tonight," he said. "We've commandeered the place for an emergency meeting. Top security. As soon as the techs get here I want the entire theatre swept clean. And I mean clean. I want an MP with every tech and I want a headcount and I am making you responsible. Got that?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "I'm going to check all the other doors personally to make sure they are locked. Get cracking, we only have an hour."

  I threw a salute as he moved off around the building and wondered just what I had gotten myself into. The rumble of engines cut through my thoughts as a truck pulled up at the curb before me. A sergeant climbed down from the cab and saluted me.

  "And what do we have here?" I asked.

  "Instrument technicians, sir. We were ordered . . ."

  "I'll bet you were. Unload them and fall them in."

  "Yes, sir."

  I stamped back to the MPs who were neatly lined up at attention and pointed my finger at Morton. "You, Lieutenant Hesk, get over in front of that entrance. No one in or out without my permission."

  My heart dropped as Morton started to look over his shoulder. Memory of his new name apparently filtered through because he recovered himself and hurried away. I turned back and scowled at the MPs, with particular attention to the sergeant who stood before them. Grayhaired, skin like an old boot, stripes and hashmarks clogging his sleeve.

  "You senior NCO?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Bight. Here is the drill. Those techs are going to sweep this theatre. I want one MP with every tech. I want every man counted in and counted out and I want no errors. And I want the sweep complete and overlapping and that building clean. Any questions?"

  "No, captain. They'll snap-cagal for me."

  "I thought they would. Get cracking."

  He turned on his heel, inflated his lungs-and let out a blast of orders that blew the cap off the nearest MP. They moved. I stepped back and nodded approval. Then stamped over and positioned myself next to Morton.

  "Something big coming down," I said quietly. "Secret meeting in an hour and we are in charge of security." I ignored his moan of anguish. "Just stand around and look military and stay away from the major when he gets back. I don't know about you, but I find this very interesting." He moaned again and I strolled over to inspect the arrangements.

  The technicians had shouldered their backpacks and were adjusting dials on the control panels that each of them wore slung about the chest. One of them pointed his detector wand at the side of the truck and I could see the needles jump; there was a squeal from the earphones that he had hung about his neck.

  "Captain. Some trouble here." I turned around.

  "What is it, sergeant?"

  "This cagal-kopf says he got a malfunction." He had a white-faced tech by the arm and was shaking him like a dog with a bone.

  "Battery, sir," the man wailed. "Checked . . . it's a malfunction . . . fuse!"

  "Arrest him, sergeant. The charge is sabotage. Have him shot at dawn." The sergeant smiled, the tech moaned and I bent until my face was close to his. "Or can you manage to trace and repair this malfunction in the next sixty seconds?"

  "It's fixed, sir! I know how! Borrow a fuse!" He stumbled away with the sergeant right behind him. I was falling into my role and beginning to enjoy myself. Though I was sure I would hate myself in the morning.

  More MPs had arrived; the major reappeared and spread them around the theatre and in front of the entrance. I could see Morton begin to shiver at their presence so I hurried to take over from him.

  "You can open that door now, lieutenant. No one goes in except these search teams. I want a head count going in and coming out."

  Under the verbal abuse of the sergeant the search was finished just in time. The first official cars were appearing as the techs were being loaded back into the trucks. "How did it go, sergeant?" I asked.

  "Lot of beer cans, cagal like that. Swept secure, captain."

  "Good. Move the troops out of the way, but keep them around in case we need them again."

  I waved Morton after me and strolled over to the nearest truck, stood in its shadow where I could see what was happening.

  "What's happening," Morton asked.

  "Good question. Big, secret, and very sudden meeting of some kind. See that car, all officers of field rank or better."

  "We have got to get out of here!"

  "Why? Can you think of a safer place to be? We are part of the security here-so no questions asked. Except by me. Look at that one getting out of the limo! Must have nine stars on his shoulders. Big stuff tonight. And that officer behind him. Never saw that uniform before. Something special . . . "

  This officer turned about and I froze. A single silver skull on the shoulder of his gray-green coat. Another skull on the front of his cap.

  And beneath the black brim of the cap a familiar face.

  Captain Garth. Former captain of a Venian freighter. The man responsible for the death of my friend The Bishop.

  "Stay here," I ordered Morton, and stepped out of the darkness as soon as Garth had turned away. I walked toward him as he approached the security check at the entrance. Passed right behind him as he reached the major who threw a very snappy salute. I could hear the major's voice clearly as I passed and went on.

  "They are almost all inside, General Zennor."

  "Report to me when the count is complete. Then seal this door tight."

  I stamped on, checked the guards, stamped back to Morton's side.

  "What was that all about?" he asked.

  "Forget about it. Nothing to do with you." No longer a simple spacer captain. A general now. Probably always a general. Zennor. What was he up to? What was this entire army up to that he seemed to be ordering around? And how could I find out?

  When the major called I did not even hear him. Only when Morton lacked me in the ankle did I realize that I was the Captain Drem he was talking to. "Yes, sir. You want me, sir?"

  "Not falling asleep, are you, Drem?"

  "No, major, I was just going over the security in my head."

  "Well go over it on your feet which will accomplish a lot more. I've stationed a man at every entrance to this theatre. Inspect them."

  I saluted his back enthusiastically as he turned away. This might very well be the opportunity I was waiting for.

  "Lieutenant," I called out. "Inspection tour. This way." I rubbed my hands together happily as we walked around the theatre. "Morton, there is something important going on here and I mean to find out more about it."

  "Don't! Stay clear!"

  "Normally good advice. But this time I have to know what is happening, what he is up to. Did you see the uniforms? All senior officers. And I was ratted to earlier today that an invasion was being planned. It doesn't take a great brain to figure out that this meeting has something to do with that invasion. But how do I get inside?" We were approaching aside entrance to the theatre and the MP there snapped to attention as soon as we appeared. I shook the locked door and scowled at him. "This door locked when you got here?"

  "Yes, sir.

  "Anyone try to get in?"

  "No, sir!"

  "What are your orders?"

  "Kill anyone who goes near the door." He had his hand on his pistol butt.

  "Does that include your commanding officers?" I shouted at him, my mouth in his ear. He swayed and his hand dropped to his side.

  "No, captain."

  "Then you are wrong and yo
u could be shot for disobeying orders. An inspecting officer may try the door to see if it is locked. If an inspecting officer should attempt to go through the door he is to be instantly killed. Is that clear?"

  "Very clear, sir."

  "Then wipe the smile from your face. You seem to enjoy that thought too much."

  "Yes, sir. I mean no, sir!"

  I growled a bit more and continued my inspection. We had almost circumnavigated the building when we reached a door in the rear. The guard there stood at attention. I shook the locked door and looked at the metal staircase beside it.

  "Where does this go to?" I asked.

  "Emergency exit."

  "Is there a guard there?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Morton followed me up the clanging stairs. I stopped halfway and bent to remove the lockpick from my shoe. Morton opened his mouth but shut it again when I put my finger to my lips. I had to find out what was happening inside.

  We stamped upward and when we emerged on the balustraded corridor the guard there had his gun half out of the holster.

  "Do you intend to aim that weapon at me?" I asked coldly.

  "No, sir, sorry." He put it away and snapped to attention. I put my face close to his.

  "Do you know it is a court-martial offense to point a weapon at an officer?"

  "I wasn't, sir, no! I'm alone here, didn't know who was coming..."

  "I don't believe you, soldier. There is something wrong here. Stand over there by the lieutenant."

  As he turned about I had the lockpick in the keyhole, delicately, turning it, clicking it. I stepped back away from it as he stopped and about-faced. "This door is locked?"

  "Yes, sir. Of course, it has to be. I am stationed here because of the door . . ."

  His voice wound down as I reached out and opened the door. Then closed it and wheeled to face him.

  "You are under arrest, soldier. Lieutenant-take this man to the major. Tell him what has happened. Return with the major at once. Move it!"