The Stainless Steel Rat Sings the Blues Page 15

  He nodded his bandaged head. "Almost right. Madonette is just what she appears to be . . ."

  "Just an office drudge-singing for a hobby."

  "The office's loss is music's gain." I smiled and blew a kiss her way. "One down, two to go. Steengo, I have a feeling that you really aren't retired. Right?"

  "Right. And I do take some pride in my musical abilities. Which, if you must know, was why I was suckered into this operation by my old drinking buddy, Admiral Benbow."

  "Drinking buddy! He who drinks with an admiral . . ."

  "Must be an admiral too. Perfectly correct, I am Arseculint . . ."

  "I didn't quite catch that."

  "Arseculint is an acronym for Area Sector Commander Cultural Intercourse. And you can uncurl your lip. Perhaps, in context, `intercourse' is not quite the right word. Cultural Relationships might express it better. My degrees are in archeology and cultural anthropology, which is what attracted me to the civil service in the first place. Sort of hands-on application of theory. I followed the matter of the alien artifact with a great deal of interest. So I was ripe for the plucking, you might say, when Stinky Benbow asked me to volunteer."

  "Stinky?"

  "Yes, funny nickname, goes back to the academy, something to do with a chemistry experiment. Which is completely beside the point. I thought enough of this assignment to take a leave from my desk. Great fun. Up until the last, that is."

  "Which leaves young Floyd here? Also an admiral?"

  He looked sheepish. "Come on, Jim, you know better than that. I even washed out of college, never graduated at all . . ."

  I pointed an accusatory finger. "Putting academic credits aside you must have some value to the Special Corps."

  "Yes, well, I do. I really am sort of an instructor . . ."

  "Speak up, Floyd," Steengo said proudly. "Being chief instructor in charge of the unarmed defense school is nothing to be ashamed of."

  "I agree completely!" I said. "If you weren't a whiz kid in unarmed combat, why none of us would be here. Thanks guys. Mission complete and successful. Let's drink to that."

  As we raised and clashed our glasses together, drank deep, I thought of my mother. I do this very rarely; it must be all the male-female myth dredging that brought her to mind. Or what she used to say. Very superstitious my Ma. Had a superstition for any occasion. The one that I remember best was when you said how great things were, or what a nice day it was. Bite your tongue she used to say.

  Meaning don't tempt the gods. Keep your head down. Because saying that something was good would surely bring about the opposite.

  Bite your tongue, good old Ma. What a lot of malarky.

  When I lowered my glass I saw a woman stumble in through the open door. A young woman with torn clothing, dusty and staggering.

  "Sound the alarm . . ." she gasped. "Disaster destruction!"

  Madonette caught her as she fell, listened to her whispered words, looked up with a horrified expression.

  "She's hurt, babbling . . . something about the science building, destroyed, gone. Everything."

  That was when I felt the cold tongs grab tight to my chest, squeezing so hard they made speech almost impossible.

  "The artifact-" was all I managed to say.

  Madonette nodded slow agreement. "That's where it was, they told me. In the science building. So it must be gone too."

  CHAPTER 21

  The mutual decision of The Stainless Steel Rats was a simple one: we had had about enough for one day. We were alive, if not too well. We had found the artifact so our mission was accomplished. The fact that it had also been destroyed was beside the fact. I hoped. They would have to supply me with the poison antidote now. I kept that thought firmly before me as I went to sleep. This was a time for rest. Wounds had to heal, tissue had to mend, fatigue had to be alleviated: medication and a good night's sleep took care of all of that.

  The sun was shining brilliantly upon the garden of our new residence when I dragged myself there next morning. Sleep had banished fatigue, which meant that I felt all the bruises that much more enthusiastically. My medication was beginning to override the pain and I dropped into a chair while I waited for beneficence to take place. Steengo came in soon after, swinging along on crutches and looking very much like I felt. He eased himself into the chair opposite me. I smiled a welcoming smile.

  "Good morning, Admiral."

  "Please, Jim-I'm still Steengo."

  "Then, Steengo, since we're alone for the moment, let me express my heartfelt thanks for breaking up the brainwashing session with Iron John. For which, unhappily, you paid quite a physical price."

  "Thank you, Jim, I appreciate that. But I had to do it. To save you from being programmed. Also-I really did lose my temper. Teddy bear indeed! A complete corruption of history."

  "No teddy bear? No golden ball?"

  "The golden ball, yes. That represents innocence, the pleasures of childhood without responsibility. It is lost when we grow up. To regain this freedom the myth tells us we have to find the ball under mother's pillow-and steal it."

  "But in a society without women you can't have a mother -so the myth has to be rewritten?"

  Steengo nodded agreement, then winced and touched the bandage around his head. "Retold as nonsense. In the original story Mother never wants the boy child to grow up, sees him as young and dependent forever. Independence must be stolen away from mother-hence the golden ball under her pillow."

  "Pretty deep stuff."

  "Pretty fascinating stuff. Mankind depends on its myths to rationalize existence. Pervert the myth and you pervert society."

  "Like Big Red and his mates on the other side of the wall?"

  "Exactly. But what was happening there was far more dangerous than just editing a myth. I had suspected that there would be some strong narcogases in the air-and I was right. You and Floyd were glassy-eyed and practically hypnotized into immobility. So it wasn't just a matter of listening to one more story about the magnetic field of the deep masculine. This was about having a very pernicious and demented theory punched deep into your mind, into your subconscious. You were being brainwashed, thought-controlled-and this sort of crude forced suggestion can do infinite harm. I had to stop it.

  "Risking your o«m life at the same time?"

  "Perhaps. But I am sure you would have done the same for me if the circumstances were reversed."

  There was no answering that one. Would I? I smiled, a little grimly. "Can I at least say thanks?"

  "You can. Greatly appreciated. So back to work. Now, before the others come, to more pressing business. Since I am now in the open, so to speak, I am relieving Captain Tremearne and taking command of this operation. I am in a better position to kick the cagal out of the chain of command and make sure that your antidote is here instantly. Or sooner. My first imperative order when I took command was to send for it."

  "Then you know about the thirty-day poison? If I might be frank-I can tell you-it has had me pretty worried. Thank you-> >

  "Don't thank me yet. Because I want your assurance that you will stick with this assignment, thirty-day poison or no."

  "Of course I will. I took on this job, got paid, and gave my word I would finish it. The poison was just some bureaucratic moron's idea of a completion bond."

  "I was sure you would say that. Knew that you would carry on regardless, threat of death or no threat of death."

  Why was I uncomfortable when he said this? This was my old mate Steengo talking. Or was there a strong whiff of the admiral behind his words? Once the military, always the military . . . No, I would not think ill of him. But I better remember that the poison was still churning away. He was smiling widely and I let my smile mirror his. Although, deep inside, the worry and fear still nagged and scratched at my thoughts. Find the artifact, Jim. That is the only way to be sure about the antidote.

  I laughed and smiled. But only on the outside. "Carry on, of course. The artifact must be found."

  "Must be
found, you are right. The search must go on!" He looked over my shoulder and waved. "And there's Floyd - and Madonette. Welcome, my dear, welcome. I would stand to greet you, but only with difficulty."

  She smiled and kissed his forehead below the bandage. Of course she was the last one to arrive, woman's prerogative. Though I had better abandon such male-chauv-pig reflexive observations. At least while I was still a guest of the ladies this side of Paradise.

  "I have been talking to Mata," she said, seating herself and sipping a bit of fruit juice. "The science building was empty when the explosion occurred, so no one was injured. Since then they have sifted the ruins and found that there is no trace at all of the artifact."

  "Positive?" I asked.

  "Positive. They have been eavesdropping on the other side of the wall, so they knew about all our interest in the thing. They waited until they observed that all the male scientists had looked at it and prodded it enough. As expected those noble gentlemen-referred here to as `the geriatric incompetents’ had discovered nothing. Having no further interest the scientists had it transferred here. A study program had been drawn up to examine the artifact but was just beginning when the explosion occurred. End of report."

  So the artifact might have been stolen, might still be around. I could help look for it. But I could also stop counting the days. Earlier, when I had been woken up by my computer, it had been flashing a glowing seven for my benefit. Now Admiral Steengo had relieved me of this chronic worry.

  But I had taken three million for this job-and I still wondered what the thing really was. So the artifact-chase would continue. Minus the pressure of the days. I looked around at my musical rats and realized that nothing had changed for them. The search for the artifact was still on. Well - why not!

  "What do we do next?" I said. Steengo, now more of an admiral than a musician, toted up the possible options.

  "Was the explosion an accident? If it wasn't-who caused it? There are really a lot of questions that must be asked . . ."

  "Mata told me to tell you that you were to ask Aida if you had any questions," Madonette said brightly.

  We considered this seriously for a moment, then realized we hadn't the slightest idea of what she was talking about. Still the admiral, Steengo spoke for all of us.

  "Who is Aida?"

  "Not who-but what. An acronym for Artificially Intelligent Data Assembler. I think that it is the central computer here. In any case, here is the access terminal."

  She put what looked like an ordinary portaphone on the table and switched it on. Nothing happened.

  "Are you there, Aida?" Madonette said.

  "Ready to be summoned at any time, darling," the voice said. In a rich and sexy contralto.

  "I thought you said computer?" was my baffled response.

  "Do I hear a male voice?" Aida said. Then giggled. "It has been such a very long time! Might I ask your name, sweetie?"

  "Jim-not sweetie. And why did you call me that?"

  "Training and programming, dear boy. Before this present assignment I ran an exploration spacer. Male crew, endless years in space. It was felt by my creators that a female voice and presence would be more efficacious morale-wise than a machine or masculine presence."

  "The last exploration spacer was junked centuries ago," Steengo said.

  "A lady does not like to be reminded of her age," Aida said huskily. "But it is true. When my ship was sent to the breakers I was made redundant. Since I am basically a computer program I am-every woman's dream-eternal. I had, shall we say, a rather varied career before I ended up here. Mind you, I'm not complaining. I find this such a pleasant occupation. There are charming ladies to talk to, as well as additional memory banks and data bases to access whenever I wish to. Most pleasurable but I do chatter on. I have been informed that you have a problem. If you would identify yourselves by name it would make conversation that much easier. Jim and Madonette I know. The name of the gentleman who just spoke?"

  "Admiral-" Steengo said, then broke off.

  "Let us do keep it on a first-name basis. And your first name is Admiral. Others?"

  "Floyd," said Floyd.

  "And a great pleasure to meet you all. How may I help?"

  "An item, referred to as the artifact, was recently brought to the science building. Do you know about it?"

  "Indeed I do. I was studying it, so am therefore quite familiar with the strange construction. In fact I had it under observation at the time of the explosion."

  "Did you see what happened to it?"

  "Taking the literal meaning of see, dear Jim, forces me to answer that question in the negative. I had no photo pickups operating at the time so I did not physically see what happened to it. The only information I had was the direction that it left in. That was thirty-two degrees to the right of the zero north-polar latitude."

  "There is nothing at all out there in that direction," Steengo said. "No settlements, no nomadic tribes. Nothing but empty plains right up the polar cap. How do you know that the artifact was taken that way?"

  "I know that, mon Amiral, because this artifact emits tachyons and I was observing it with a tachyometer. Keeping count, so to speak, and most interesting it was too. It did not emit many-after all, what source does?-but a few are much better than none. Let the record show that it emitted one tachyon, from the direction I have given you, just microseconds before the explosion that destroyed the equipment I was using."

  "You weren't-injured?" Madonette said.

  "How sweet of you to ask! I wasn't, because I wasn't there. As soon as I could I constructed a new tachyometer, conveyed it to the site of the explosion with, unhappily, no results. Now there is just background radiation."

  "Do you know what caused the explosion?"

  "Welcome to this easy give-and-take of social intercourse, friend Floyd. To answer your question-I do. It was a very powerful explosive. I can give you the chemical formula but I am sure that you would find that immensely boring. But I can tell you that this explosive was manufactured quite widely for the mining industry at one time. It is named ausbrechitite."

  "Never heard of it."

  "Understandable, Admiral, since it was found to grow unstable with the passage of time. Manufacturing was phased out and ausbrechitite was replaced by newer and more stable explosives."

  "When was this?" I asked.

  "A bit over three centuries ago. Would you like the exact date?"

  "That will do fine."

  We blinked at each other in silence. Not knowing what to do with this weird historical-scientific evidence. Only Madonette had the brains to ask the right question.

  "Aida-do you have any theories about what happened?"

  "Simply thousands my dear. But there is no point in telling you about them until I gather some more evidence. Right now you might say that we are in the early moves of a chess game with millions of possibilities for the rest of the game. But I can give you some figures. Chances of an accidental explosion; zero. Chances that the explosion was tied in with the theft; sixty-seven percent. What happens next depends upon you."

  "How?"

  "Consider reality. You are mobile, cher Jim while I am, so to speak, tied down to the job. I can give advice, and accompany you in transceiver form when you leave here. But what happens next-that decision is up to you."

  "What decision?" Aida could be exasperating at times.

  "I will supply a new tachyometer. If you take it in the direction I have indicated you might be able to track the artifact in this manner."

  "Thanks," I said and reached out and turned Aida off. "Looks like us humans have to come to a decision. Who follows the trail? Let us not all speak at once but let me speak first because I am top rat. I have the feeling that it is now time to thin our ranks. I say that Madonette does not go any further. We needed her for the music-and wonderful she was too!-but not for crawling around looking for nutcases planting century-old bombs."

  "I second Jim's motion," Admiral Steengo said.


  "I third it," Floyd said quickly as Madonette tried to speak. "This is really not your kind of job. Nor is it Steengo's either."

  "Isn't that for me to decide?" Steengo snarled in his best admiralish mode.

  "No," I suggested. "If you wish to be of assistance, you can really help us by organizing the base operation from here. I declare that the motion has been seconded and passed above all objections. This is only a democracy when it suits me."

  Steengo smiled and the admiral's scowl vanished; he was too smart to argue. "I agree. I am well past my sell-by date for fieldwork. My aching bones tell me that. Please, Madonette, give in graciously to the thrust of history. Are you nodding albeit reluctantly? Good. Above and beyond any aid given by Aida, I will see to it that the Special Corps will supply any equipment needed. Questions?" He glowered around in a circle but we were silent. He nodded with satisfaction and Madonette raised her hand.

  "With that decision out of the way-may I pass on a request? In conversation I have discovered that everyone here is a true musical Rat fan so . . ."

  "Could we do one last gig before the group breaks up? You betcha. All in agreement."

  There was a rousing cheer from all except Steengo who looked unhappy at the thought of all of his instruments reduced to a pile of particles. But Madonette, ever resourceful, had done a bit of work before she mentioned the gig.

  "I've asked around among the girls. They tell me that there is a really nice chamber group here, as well as a symphony orchestra-they must have at least one instrument Steengo can play."

  "Any of them, all of them-just unleash me!" he said and now it was smiles and cheers all around.

  Due to the miracles of modern medicines, curing and healing drugs, pain-killers and a large shot of booze for Steengo, we were ready to do our performance later this same day. A matinee, since night here was still a couple of our days away and not worth waiting for.

  There was quite a turnout at the sports stadium. Cheers and shouts of joy greeted us and no one seemed to mind that Steengo was not only out of costume but playing from a wheelchair. If this was to be the last curtain for The Stainless Steel Rats we meant to make it a performance to remember. Leaving the more militaristic and macho songs aside for the moment we launched into a mellow blues number.