The Stainless Steel Rat Gets Drafted Read online

  "You got him. Move out. Any more volunteers?" I grabbed up my bags before he could change his mind and hurried off toward the transports with Morton stumbling behind.

  "I thought that I was going to die when you knocked him down," he gasped. "You took some chance."

  "Just being alive in the modern world is taking a chance," I pontificated, "what with all the carcinogens and traffic accidents. And I think we can stop and put the bags down. Help has arrived."

  An eager-looking sergeant, with a bald head, large moustache and two privates, came trotting up and I returned his salute.

  "I am Acting First Sergeant Blogh. If you are Captain Drem you are the new CO," the sergeant said.

  "Right both times, sergeant. Get those men on these bags and let's go."

  "Last of the company boarding now. We blast off in ten minutes."

  "We can make it. Let's move."

  The loading ramp vanished from behind our heels and the outer lock began to grind shut. We had to climb over. boxes of equipment bolted to the deck to reach the stairs. Two flights up was the company sprawled from wall to wall on their G pads. We dived for ours and were just horizontal when the red lights began flashing and the engines came to life.

  As takeoffs go, it went. They poured on a lot more G's than a commercial transport would, but that is what the army is all about. When the acceleration dropped to one-G I stood and waved the sergeant over.

  "Canteens fall?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Let them drink, but no food for a while . . ."

  There was a roar of sound from the speakers followed by an overly-amplified voice. "All commanding officers to deck two now. All COs, now."

  "Lieutenant," I called out to a very queasy-looking Morton. "Take over until I get back. Let the noncoms do all the work." I bent and added in a whisper, "Don't let that bird-bag out of sight. If it is opened we will really be in the cagal."

  He moaned slightly and I hurried away before he began to feel too sorry for himself. There were other officers climbing the gangway, all of them curious and expectant.

  "Maybe now we will find out what this whole thing is about."

  "They got to tell us something-we been living on latrine rumors for a year."

  The dining hall was not that big, so only the first arrivals got seats. The rest of us crowded in between the tables and leaned against the walls. An ancient sergeant checked us off his list when we came in. When he was satisfied he reported to a two-star general at the top table. The hum of conversation died down as the sergeant called for our attention.

  "For them of you newly transferred to this division this here is your commanding officer. General Lowender, and he has an important announcement to make." There was silence as the general turned to us, nodded sagely, and spoke.

  "This is it, men. H-hour, D-day, the moment you have all been expecting, nay, looking forward to eagerly. The captain of this ship has reported that we are on course, with no chance of turning back now. So the secret orders can be opened."

  He took up a large envelope heavy with red seals and tore it asunder, the sound of ripping paper loud in the silence. He held up the red-bound volume inside.

  "This is it. You will have heard rumors that we plan a defensive action against Zemlija. That is wrong. Security planted those rumors to mislead the enemy. Our off-world enemies are many and their spies everywhere. That has explained our great need for secrecy. That need is past, As you can tell we are now in space and heading toward a new world. A rich world. A world that lost contact with the rest of the galaxy thousands of years ago. And, more important, a world only we know exists. It is inhabited, but the natives are backward and do not deserve to have this verdant world for their own greedy selves. Is the machine ready? Good, General Zennor, the discoverer of this rich planet, will tell you about it in his own words." My pulse hammered and I started to sink down before I realized that it was just a recording and I did not have to worry about being recognized. The lights dimmed a bit, the general took a digital recording from the envelope and slipped it into the projector. Zennor's repulsive hologramed features floated before us.

  "Soldiers of Nevenkebia, I salute you. You are now embarked on the greatest venture ever conceived by our country. Your victory in the field will enrich and strengthen our fatherland so that none will ever dare consider an attack upon us. The riches of a new world will be ours. The riches of this world-Chojecki!"

  There was a blare of tinny music as Zennor vanished to be replaced by the blue sphere of a planet floating in space. But if we were spared his image his flatulent voice still hammered in our ears.

  "Chojecki. Rich, warm, fertile. It was a chance in a million that we discovered it. The ship I commanded was being followed by the killers of the League Navy and we used a random, untraceable jump to escape them. This noble planet was what we found. Perhaps there is a higher power that guided us to our destiny, perhaps the needs of our noble land were divined by benevolencies unknown to us."

  "Perhaps that is a load of old cagal," someone whispered and there were mutters of agreement in the darkness. These were combat officers who preferred truth to propaganda. But there was no stopping Zennor.

  "We landed and made a survey. It is a rich planet with immense reserves of heavy metals, abundant forests, untapped rivers to supply hydroelectric power. If there is anything at all wrong with Chojecki it is the present inhabitants."

  We listened now with interest because there was an edge of irritation that Zennor could not keep out of his voice.

  "They are disgusting people, with vile attitudes and strange perversions. We approached them openly, extending the hand of friendship. We offered them aid, companionship, trade, contact with a superior civilization. And do you know what we got in return? Do you know what they did?"

  The anger in his voice was obvious now, his audience eager.

  "I'll tell you what they did. They did nothing! They completely ignored us, turned away from us-rejected all civilized contact."

  "Probably knew just what they were doing," someone said and the general shouted for silence. The planet popped out of existence and Zennor's image returned. His temper was under control now but there was a baleful look in his eye.

  "So you officers will understand that what we are doing is for their own benefit. Ours is an old culture and a wise one. We extended the hand of friendship and aid and it was rejected. We have been insulted, offended by these peasants. Therefore, for their own good, we must show them that Nevenkebia pride does not take insult easily. They have asked for this and they are going to get it. We come in friendship to aid them. If they reject our aid they have only themselves to blame.

  "Long live Nevenkebia!

  "Long live positive peace!"

  The lights came up and we were all on our feet cheering like fools. I cheered as loud as anyone. Trumpets blared and a rather dreary piece of recorded music began playing. Everyone snapped to attention and sang the words of their despicable anthem. Long live Nevenkebia, Land of peace, Land of goodness, land of light. Long live our leaders, Sweet men of mercy.

  Long shall we preserve Liberty's right. But dare to attack us- And you got B fight! There was more like this and I hummed along and was exceedingly happy when the singing ended. A holomap now hung in the air and General Lowender poked it with his finger.

  "You will all be issued with maps and detailed orders. We will meet again tomorrow after you have studied them. At that time we will go over the plan of attack in detail. But as an overall approach-this is what will happen.

  "This division, the 88th, known as the Fighting Green Devils, has the honor of liberating this industrial section of the largest city called by the barbaric name of Bellegarrique. There are mines here and here, warehouses, a rail transportation system and here, ten kilometers away, a dam at the end of this lake that provides electricity for the city. For the benefit of these selfish people we will occupy all of these targets. We will liberate them from the futility of their rejection o
f our reasonable needs."

  "A question, general," a colonel called out. The general nodded. "What kind of defenses can we expect? How large is their army? How modern?"

  "That is a good question, colonel, and a vital one. We must be prepared for anything, any variety of attack, any kind of surprise. Because these people are very subtle, tricky, wily, treacherous. It seems that, well, in all of the contacts made by General Zennor, all of the investigations made by skilled agents, it seems that something very suspicious was found to be happening. It appears, on the surface that is, that these treacherous people have no army, no defenses-they do not even have a police force!" He waited for the hum of excited voices to die down before he raised his hand for silence.

  "Now we all know that this is impossible. A country needs defenses against attack, therefore every country must have an army for defense. The criminal elements in society would plunder and destroy were they not curbed by the police. Now we know that those are realities. We know that these treacherous people are hiding their cowardly arms from us. Therefore we must proceed with armed caution, ready for any sneak attack. We must free them from themselves. We owe that to them," I have never in my life heard such a load of old cagal- but it impressed my military mates who cheered wildly at the thought of all the nice mayhem to come.

  While I wondered what disastrous future lav in store for these simple people about to be liberated from their stupid and peaceful ways.

  Liberation by destruction was on the way! We would free them even if we had to kill them all to do it!

  CHAPTER 15

  I returned to my company, clutching the package of sealed orders and holding tight to the idea that this was the most insane endeavor I had ever heard of. Morton looked up when I entered the cabin.

  "You are wearing a very worried look," he said. "Something personal-or should we all be worried?"

  "Anything I can do for you, captain?" Sergeant Blogh asked, popping in the door behind me. They all wanted to know about the meeting. I threw the package onto the bed.

  "Sergeant, what is the position regarding strong drink on troop transports about to go into action?"

  "It is strictly forbidden, sir, and a court-martial offense. But one of the spare tanks on the command car is filled with ninety-nine."

  "Ninety-nine what?"

  "Ninety-nine percent pure alcohol. Cut half with water and stir in dehydrated orange juice."

  "Since we are going into combat I am making a field appointment. Acting First Sergeant Blogh you are now First Sergeant Blogh."

  There was a rattle as Morton dropped three canteen cups onto the table, a thud as a bag of orange crystals followed. I could see where he was getting adjusted to the army.

  The sergeant came back with a twenty-liter jerrycan, which with added water would make forty liters of hundred proof drink which, in turn, should make this voyage more bearable.

  We clanked mugs and drank deep.

  "This stuff is pretty repulsive," Morton said holding out his empty cup for more. "Can you now tell us what you found out?"

  "I have some good news and some good news. The first good news is that we are going to invade and occupy an incredibly rich and heretofore unknown planet named Chojecki. Secondly-they don't appear to have any defenses of any kind. No military, no police, nothing."

  "Impossible," the sergeant said.

  "Anything is possible in the fullness of time and the width of the galaxy. Let us hope the report is correct because it will certainly make for an easy invasion."

  "I think it is a trap." The sergeant still wasn't buying it. I nodded.

  "The general seems to think the same thing. He is sure that there is a secret army in hiding."

  "Not necessarily," Morton said. "Before entering the army I was a student of history. So I can tell you. Diverse are the ways of mankind. As you have so truthfully stated, captain, in the fullness of time and the width of the galaxy there have been many kinds of societies, forms of government ..."

  "You got governments you got armies. That's the way it's got to be."

  The drink was making the sergeant pugnacious and Morton maudlin. Time to close the bar.

  "Right. " I climbed to my feet and kicked the jerrycan of alcohol out of sight under the table. "Sergeant, get the noncoms together. Tell them what I told you about the invasion, have them pass it on to the troops. That will be all for now."

  The door closed behind the sergeant and Morton dropped his head onto the table and began to snore. He was sure a cheap drunk. I finished the repulsive, though certainly lethal, orange-alcohol mixture and heard my stomach rumble in protest. Or was it hunger? A long time and a lot of distance had gone by since that half-eaten steak in the officers' club. I dug into my pack and found some of the rations that we had been issued. A reddish tube was labeled HOTPUP MEAL. In smaller print it stated that it would feed two and could be opened by puncturing the white circle on the end. I pulled my combat knife out of my boot and stabbed the thing enthusiastically. It instantly grew exceedingly hot and burned my fingers. I dropped it onto the table where it rumbled and hissed and began to expand. I kept the knife ready in case it attacked me. There was a ripping sound as the casing split open and it expanded into an arm-long sausage. It looked repulsive but smelled quite good. I hacked off the end, impaled it on my knife and ate. The only thing missing was some beer.

  Life continued in this manner. Day followed day like the flapping of a great red sausage. As good as the hotpup had tasted at first bite, I grew to loathe the sorry sausages. As did we all since, due to some bit of mismanagement in the rush to load the transports and be away, hotpups were the only food that had been put aboard. Even the general had to eat the repulsive objects and he was not pleased.

  We had meetings and briefings, all of which I duly passed on to the troops. We cleaned and recleaned our weapons, sharpened our knives, had shortarm inspections to keep the medical officers on their toes, worked our way down through the alcohol until fifteen days had passed and the officers were ordered to yet one more meeting.

  This one was different. The knot of field officers around General Lowender was buzzing with talk and much consultation of maps. As soon as we were all assembled the general stood-and hammered his fists down on the table. "The invasion has begun!"

  He waited until the cheering had died down before he continued. "The first scouts have gone down and report no resistance. As yet. But we must be wary because all of this could be a dodge to suck us into a trap of some kind. You all have your orders, you know what to do-so there is nothing more to be said. We touch down in two hours. Set your watches. So that is it. Except, boys-give 'em hell!" More wild cheering followed before we hurried back to tell the troops what lay ahead.

  "About time," was Sergeant Blogh's comment. "The troops get soft, lose their edge lying around on their chunks like they been. About time."

  "Get the noncoms and we'll go over the attack thoroughly just once more," I said, spreading out the now familiar map. With the lending this close I had their undivided attention.

  "Here is where we are supposed to touch down," I said, tapping the map. "Now how many of you believe that the military pilot flying this thing will actually land on the correct spot?" The silence was complete.

  "Right. I feel the same way. We are supposed to touch down at dawn which 'means it will probably be dark-or raining, or both. We will be first out because we got the longest way to go. I will lead in the command car which if it is dark and unless we are fired upon, will have its lights on so you can see it."

  Sergeant Blogh frowned and touched his clipboard full of papers. "A specific order here from the general states that no lights are to be used."

  "Correct. And the general will be the last one to leave the ship and we will be first, and we have to get clear at once because there are tanks right behind us."

  "Lights to be on!" the sergeant said, firmly.

  "I will proceed to the nearest hill or highpoint to check the map and see if we hav
e landed where planned. If not I shall determine just where the hell we are and where we are going. The lieutenant here will muster the troops and follow the command car. When I know where we are going we will go there. Here. To the dam. To the generating plant that supplies the unpronounceable city of Bellegarrique with electricity. Our job is to seize and secure. Any questions? Yes, corporal?"

  "Can we leave hotpup rations here and live off the countryside?"

  "Yes and no. We take the hotpups in case we should run across the supply officer so we can stuff him with them. But we seize some native food soonest. It will be brought to me for testing before distribution. Anyone else?"

  "Ammunition. When do we get the ammo?"

  "It's on the disembarkation deck now. You will be issued with it when we go down there. You will see that each man is issued his lot. You will also see that no weapons are loaded. We don't want any guns going off inside this ship."

  "We load after we hit the ground?" the First Sergeant asked.

  "You load when I tell you to. We do not expect any resistance. If there is no resistance we don't need to shoot any of the locals. If we don't shoot the locals the invasion will be an instant success. If the weapons aren't loaded they cannot shoot. The weapons will not be loaded."

  There was a murmur of protest at this and beetlebrowed Corporal Aspya expressed their mutual concern.

  "Can't attack without loaded weapons."

  "Yes you can," I said in my coldest voice. "You can do what you are ordered to do. One weapon will be loaded, My weapon will be loaded. And I will shoot any man-or officer-who disobeys orders. More questions? No. Dismissed. We proceed to landing positions in thirty minutes."

  "They are not happy about this ammunition thing," Morton said when the others had gone.

  "Tough cagal. I am not happy about this killing thing. No arnmo, no shooting. This will stop accidents happening."

  He adjusted the straps on his pack, still worrying. "They should be able to defend themselves . . ."