The Stainless Steel Rat Sings the Blues Read online

  "Stand here," Indefatigable ordered, then joined Dreadnought and sat down with the others.

  "No chairs for us?" I asked, but was ignored. Fido felt equally irked, jumped up onto the table and barked. Jumped back to the floor to dodge the swing of a fist.

  "Shut up," one of the men suggested. "We are awaiting orders. We are here, Alphamega."

  They all turned to look at a red box on the table. It was made of plastic and was featureless except for louvers on one side.

  "Are the two Outsiders you told me of present as well?" the box asked. The voice was flat and mechanical and obviously cycled through a speech occulter.

  "They are."

  "I speak to you, Outsiders. I have been told that you come here seeking an object taken from you."

  "That is correct, speaking-box."

  "What is the function of this object?"

  "You tell me-you stole it from us." I was beginning to get teed off at all this cloak-and-dagger stuff.

  "Your attitude is unacceptable. Answer my question or be punished."

  I took a deep breath-and reined in my temper.

  "I'd like that," Floyd said cheerfully, as fed up as I was with all this nonsense.

  Where the discussion would have gone from here would never be known because at that moment running footsteps sounded and a wild-eyed young man burst into the room.

  "Alarm! Watchpatrol coming!"

  The sound of a number of thudding feet added a note of urgency to his warning. But at least our captors were prepared for the emergency. A door opened in the wall behind them and there was a rush to get through it. The newcomer, who must have known what would happen, was the last one in the crowd to jump to safety.

  The table was in the way. I launched myself across it just in time to have the concealed door slammed in my face. I kicked it but it didn't budge. I looked at the now silent box.

  "Speak up, Alphamega. How do we get out of this?"

  The red box crackled-then burst into flame. Melted into a pool of plastic. "Thanks," I said.

  "Any other way out?" Floyd asked.

  "Not that I can see."

  The rapid footsteps were just outside. Before I could dig out a gas bomb the scrum of armed men burst into the room.

  Things got busy. Floyd dropped the first three who came through the door while I tackled the next two. Then the going got tough because more and more kept pushing in. Some had body armor, all of them had transparent riot masks attached to their spiked helmets. They didn't try to shoot us, but rather enjoyed clubbing us with their guns.

  Something hard got me on the back of the head and I staggered and fell. Before they jumped me the last thing I saw was Fido going up the wall like a spider and vanishing in the darkness there. Then I got thudded and had a nice darkness of my own.

  "Feeling any better, Jim?" a distant voice said and I felt something wet and cool on my forehead.

  "Shbsha . . ." I said, or something like that. Chomped my dry mouth and opened my eyes. Floyd's face swam blurrily into view. I blinked and saw that he was smiling. He put the cold cloth back onto my forehead, which felt very nice.

  "You got a bad one on the back of your head," he said. "They didn't hit me quite as hard."

  I started to say Where are we? but figured that was a pretty dim question with an obvious answer. I could see a barred door which was hint enough. It hurt when I sat up on the bunk. Floyd handed me a plastic cup of water which I gurgled down and passed back for a refill. I patted my pockets and the seams of my trousers hopefully-but all my concealed weaponry was gone.

  "Seen any dogs around lately?"

  "Nope."

  So that was that. Hit on the head. Imprisoned. Deserted by man's best friend. Somewhere underground so my jaw radio probably wouldn't work. Just in case I clacked hard and called for attention, but couldn't even get any static.

  "Well-it could be worse," Floyd said in a repellently cheery fashion. I was about to curse him out when he got just the answer he deserved.

  "And it will be. You will be dead," the man said from the other side of the barred door. "Instantly. If you attempt to touch me or the Killerbot behind me. Is that clear?"

  He was gray-haired, stern-faced, dressed in the same combat fatigues and spiked helmet as everyone else whom we had seen here. The only difference was that his spike was gold and had stylized wings on it. He moved aside and pointed at the very deadly-looking collection of mobile military hardware behind him. All guns, clubs, wheels, knives and metal teeth. Teeth for tearing out throats?

  I had no intention of finding out. "Follow me," our captor said, turning and walking away. The cell door clicked and swung open. Floyd and I shuffled out and followed him at a discreet distance. Clanking and rattling, the Killerbot rumbled along behind us.

  The hallway, while being a depressing and drab tone of gray, was at least well lit. At regular intervals were framed photographs-apparently all of the same individual from what I could see as we walked past. Or of a number of scowling military types differing only in the braid and the medals on their camouflage suits.

  Our host turned into a doorway that was flanked by studded steel columns. We followed-all too aware of the clanking apparatus just behind.

  "Impressive," I said, looking around the giant chamber. Black marble floor and walls. A large window looking out onto a military camp filled with flapping flags, marching troops, rows of armor-plated vehicles. Since we were deep underground it was obviously a projection-but a very good one. These militaristic themes were also carried through in the interior decorations; light fixtures made of aerial bombs, machine-gun flowerpots, draperies assembled from tattered, ancient banners. I found it horribly depressing.

  Without looking back our captor marched around the gigantic conference table and sat down in the single, high-backed chair there. With a wave of his hand he indicated the two smaller chairs before us.

  "Sit," he commanded. Behind us was a clank and rattle, a hiss of escaping steam. We sat.

  Something brushed my ankle and I looked down and saw that padded clamps had swung into position to secure my legs; motors whirred and they tightened.

  I threw my arms into the air just as clamps from the chair arms swung out and clicked shut on empty air.

  "Not wise," our host said. There was a clank-clank close behind me and what could only have been a gun-muzzle ground into the back of my neck. The wrist clamps snapped open. I sighed and dropped my arms. I didn't have to look to know that Floyd had been imprisoned the same way.

  "Leave."

  When his master commanded the ambulatory war-machine clanked and rumbled out of the room and I heard the immense doors close.

  "I am The Commander," our captor said, leaning back in his chair and lighting a large, green cigar.

  "Is that your title or your name?" I asked.

  "Both," he said, blowing a ring of blue smoke towards the ceiling. "I have imprisoned you since I do not wish to be attacked-nor do I wish to have anyone or anything present while we talk." He touched a button on his desk and looked at pulsing purple light. "And now we are secure against eavesdropping."

  "Going to tell us who all you guys are, what you are doing here and that sort of thing?" I asked.

  "Assuredly. We are The Survivalists."

  "I think I heard a reference to your mob before."

  "Undoubtedly. During the years of the Breakdown there were a number of groups with that name. We are the only ones who deserve it since we are the only ones who survive."

  "Survivalists," Floyd said, and went on as though reading from a book. "Groups who believed in the inevitability of the coming war, as well as the inability of their own governments to protect them, who then withdrew from society into underground bunkers equipped with food, water, ammunition and supplies adequate to survive any catastrophe. None survive."

  "Very good-you are quoting from . . . ?"

  "Handbook of Historical Nuts, Cults and Saviors."

  "Very good-except for the title
and the last line. We survived."

  "A little too well," I said. "The Breakdown Wars are long gone and the galaxy is at peace now."

  "I'm glad to hear that. Just don't tell anyone else here."

  "Why not? But let me guess. You want to keep them stupid and in line because you are onto a very good thing. For as long as there is war or the threat of war those in charge tend to stay in charge. Which, of course, is you."

  "An excellent summation, Jim. Though there are those who are unhappy with the state of things . . ."

  "We've met them. Youngsters who perhaps aren't too happy with the militaristic status quo and war forever. Who perhaps prefer a future in the bosom of their families. That is assuming you do have families?"

  "Of course, safe and secure in the residential caverns. We guard them and protect them-"

  "As well as having a generally good time playing soldier and bossing everybody about."

  "Your criticism is becoming tiring."

  He looked quizzically at his cigar ash, then tapped it into the ashtray before him. Which was made from a shell casing of course. Something black stirred at the very edge of my vision but I made no move to look that way. It was about time Fido made an appearance.

  "So what do you want us for?" Floyd asked.

  "I thought that was obvious. I want to find out who you are and how much you know about us."

  There was a quick movement from under the table to my chair, out of The Commander's line of sight. The thing must have then climbed the back of my chair because Aida's voice whispered in my ear.

  "I have done a voice analysis of a recording I made during the interrupted meeting. I stripped away the interference of the voice occulter and now know who the speaker who called himself Alphamega is . . ."

  "I already know," I said.

  "Know what?" The Commander said. "What are you saying?"

  "Sorry, just speaking my thoughts aloud. My thoughts being that you are playing some kind of complicated game, aren't you? You called me by name-and we have never been introduced. Of course if you were present at the meeting of the young dissidents you would know who I was. And now I know who you are."

  I smiled and let the silence stretch before I spoke.

  "The Commander-or Alphamega-which name do you prefer? Since you are both of them rolled into one."

  CHAPTER 25

  "I can kill you-quite quickly," The Commander said coldly and calmly. But at the same time he was stubbing and crunching his cigar out in a most agitated manner.

  "Temper, temper," I said. "Since you appear to be in charge of both sides in this internal conflict, and you obviously got us here for a reason-why don't you just tell us all about it?"

  He was scowling now, angry and dangerous. As my mother always said-why was her memory still popping up?-you catch more porcuswine with honey than you do with vinegar. Gently, gently.

  "Please, Commander," I pleaded most unctuously, "we're on your side, even when no one else is. You know exactly what you are doing-while none of your troops has the slightest idea what is happening. Not only are you in charge here, but it looks as though you have managed a mild insurrection on your own terms. You have done an incredible job that no one else was capable of doing. We can help you-if you will let us."

  The scowl faded. Floyd followed my lead, smiled and nodded agreement and said nothing; another cigar was produced and lit. The smoke rose up and the smoker nodded beneficently.

  "You are right of course, Jim. The responsibility has been great, the pressure continuous. And I am surrounded by morons-stulteguloj, kretenoj! Centuries of interbreeding and hiding underground has done little to improve their brain capacity. I am amazed that I alone have the intelligence to see this. I'm as different from them as if I had been born on a different planet, the child of superior parents."

  This was sounding familiar. There has never been a strongman, dictator, military ruler, who did not believe that he somehow came from superior stock.

  "You are different, sir," Floyd said, almost humbly. "I knew that as soon as you spoke."

  We had both obviously read the same textbooks. Though I thought he was spreading it on rather thickly. I was wrong.

  "You could see that? The difference is obvious I suppose, to someone from Outside. It hasn't been easy, I tell you. In the beginning I even tried to talk to the senior officers, explain some of the problems and suggest solutions. I could have had more communication talking to a wall. Not that the younger ones are any better. Though they are restless, give them that. When you get down to it there isn't much joy in just plain surviving. In the beginning maybe, it must have been a challenge then. But after a couple of centuries the pleasures begin to wear pretty thin."

  "Was it the restlessness of the younger ones that gave you the idea to supply a leader for them to follow?" I asked.

  "Not at first. But I began to see that the young were losing respect for the old. About the only people they looked up to were the scientists. From their point of view the scientists were the only ones who at least appeared to be doing new and important things. That's when I hit on the Alphamega role. They think that I am one of the younger scientists. A rebel who is unable to make any progress against the old ideas, the familiar ways-therefore I have been forced to enlist others of like age and mind."

  "My arms are getting stiff," Floyd said, smiling. "You wouldn't mind taking off these clamps for a bit?"

  "I would. I want you two just where you are."

  Mercurial, our friend. All warmth gone in an instant, he dragged so hard on the cigar that it crackled and sparked. "We Survivalists watch events pretty closely-all over this planet. With a surveillance network set up before anyone else arrived. Amplified and spread ever since. Not a bird craps, not a polpettone fruit falls that we don't know about. That I don't know about. Because I watch the watchers. I watched and saw that a lot of energy and plenty of high-powered work was going into recovering that artifact. There is something very important about it-and I want to know just what. I had a squad steal it and destroy the building, hide their tracks. It was impossible to follow them. Yet you did. I want to know how you did that too. So talk-and talk fast."

  "My pleasure," I said. "My friend here knows nothing about the artifact. But I do. I am the one who found it first, then tracked it and followed it here. I am the only one who can tell you how it operates-and what incredible things it can do. If you can take me to it I will be happy to show you how it works."

  "That is more like it. You will come with me. Your associate remains here as a guarantee-don't you agree?" He stood and buckled on a large and offensive-looking sidearm.

  "Of course. Sorry about that, Floyd," I said as I turned my head to face him. Winking with my left eye, the one our captor couldn't see. "I know that you would come after me and help me if you could. But you can't. So stay here and you will be safe. You have the word of James Fido diGriz on that."

  "I'll be okay, Jim. Look after yourself."

  I only hoped that this mixture of innuendo, hints and suggestions had delivered my message to him. I could only cross mental fingers and hope. The door opened and there was a hiss, rumble and clank behind me as my bonds snapped open. I rubbed my stiff arms and stood up slowly and carefully. The Killerbot blinked baleful little orange eyes at me and waved a smoke-stained flamethrower in the direction of the door. I followed Commander Alphamega out, leaving Floyd prisoner in the chair. Not for long, I hoped, if Fido-Aida had understood my suggestions.

  We walked side by side down the wide hall with its framed portraits of heroes. My companion smiled warmly in my direction. Pulling his gun a bit out of the holster at the same time, then letting it slide back.

  "You do understand that if you breathe one word about our conversation you will be no more than a grease spot on the floor?"

  "Completely aware, thank you. Absolute silence on that topic, yes, sir. I will look at the artifact and explain its operation. Nothing more."

  Maybe I was smiling on the outside-bu
t I was pretty gloomy on the inside. Jim, you are getting yourself in deeper than a porcuswine in a mudhole. A depressing thought-and a true one. But I really had no choice.

  It was quite a long walk and I was getting tired again. When all this was over-of it were ever over-I promised myself a nice long holiday. Head-up, Jim! Think positive and get ready to improvise.

  A last door opened and we were in what was obviously a laboratory. Complete with control boards, power cables, bubbling retorts and aged scientists in white smocks. There was a lot of loyal fist-smacking on chests when the leader appeared. Salutes that he returned with the merest tap of his own loosely clenched fist. They moved respectfully back to give us access to a lab bench. On it, now sprouting wires and connections to the surrounding test gear, was the alien artifact. I clapped my brow and staggered.

  "What are you cretins doing with the cagleator!" I shouted. "We are all dead if you have actuated it!"

  "No, no-not that!" an ,elderly scientist cackled. Then shut up and looked fearfully at the Commander who sneered in return.

  "You are all morons. Now tell this Outsider what you have done,", he ordered. "He is the ,one who knows what the' device can do."

  "Thank you, thank you! Of course, as you have ordered.", The wrinkly turned back to. me with shaking hands and pointed a quavering finger. "We have only X-rayed the device and charted the circuitry. Very complex, as you know. There vas, however . . ." he began to sweat, looking about unhappily, "a reaction of some kind. when we attempted to test the circuitry."

  "A reaction? If you have made a mistake the world has just ended! Show me."

  "No, not a big. reaction. Just that it absorbed electricity from our test circuit. We were: not aware of this at first-and we instantly terminated the test when we saw what was happening."

  "And just what did you sees happening?" The Commander asked, voice like a file on rough steel.

  "That, sir, we saw that. A cover of some kind fell away disclosing this recess. And .. the lights. That is all. just lights . . ."

  Fascinated, we all leaned forward to look. Yes, there was the recess. And inside it there' were four little blobs of light. Green, red, orange and white.