The Stainless Steel Rat Wants You ssr-4 Read online

  “You said was with a certain amount of accentuation. Should I believe…?”

  “You should. They have vanished without a trace. So has the satellite. We haven’t the slightest idea of what happened to them.”

  “Will they be missed? I should think that a certain amount of jubilation will be heard below decks—”

  “Save the humor, diGriz. If the press gets ahold of this just think of the political repercussions. Not to mention the disorganized state of our defenses.”

  “That shouldn’t worry you too much. I don’t see any intergalactic warfare looming on the horizon just now. In any case—let me call home with a censored version of this information and off we go.”

  Behind the air intake in the wall the creature hung, supported by sucker-equipped tentacles. It blinked large green eyes in the darkness and made muffled chomping sounds as it worked its needle-sharp red teeth against its bony palate. It stank, too.

  “There is something fishy here, Slippery Jim, and I don’t like it,” my Angelina said, eyes flashing fire from the viewplate. How I loved her fire.

  “Never, my sweet!” I lied. “A sudden assignment, that’s all. A few days’ work. I’ll be back as soon as it is done. Now that the boys have graduated you must get out the old travel brochures and find a nice spot for us all to go for a holiday.”

  “I’m glad you mentioned the boys. They slunk in a few minutes ago all bashed and dirty and tired and would not say a word as to what had happened.”

  “They will. Tell them Dad says All Operations Go and they should tell you the entire story of our evening’s interesting adventures. See you soon, my sweet!” I blew her a kiss and switched off before she could protest again. By the time she had heard of the night’s nonsense I would be off planet and finishing this intriguing new assignment. Not that I cared much what happened to a few hundred admirals, but the mechanics of their disappearance should prove interesting.

  It did. As soon as we were enroute to Kakalak-two I cracked open the file, poured a large glass of Syrian Panther Sweat, a guaranteed coronary in every bottle, and sat down for a good read. I did this slowly, then a second time a little faster—then a third just to hit the high points. When I dropped the folder I saw that Inskipp was seated across from me, glaring, chewing his lip, tapping his fingers on the table and swinging his toe up and down.

  “Nervous?” I asked. “Try a glass of this—”

  “Shut up! Just tell me what you think, what you’ve found out.”

  “I’ve found out that we are going to the wrong place, for openers. Change course for Special Corps Main Station so I can have a chat with my old friend, Professor Coypu.”

  “But the investigation—”

  “Will accomplish nothing on the spot.” I tapped the file. “It’s all been done already. All of your military types assembled, usual radio traffic—then the warning shouts and the cryptic cry of ‘The teeth!’, then nothing more. Your highly trained investigating team went there and found empty space and no remnant of the satellite nor any trace of what had happened. If I go there I would find the same thing. So take me to Coypu?”

  “Why?”

  “Because Coypu is the master of the time-helix. In order to find out what happened I am going to slip back in time just long enough to see what occurred on that fateful day.”

  “I never thought of that,” Inskipp mused.

  “Of course not. Because you fly a desk and I am the best field agent in the Corps. I will take one of your cigars as a reward for my sterling qualities, so often displayed.”

  Prof. Coypu was not interested. He clattered his impressive yellow buck teeth against his lower lip, shook his head no so emphatically that the few remaining long strands of gray hair dropped over his eyes, while at the same time making pushing motions with his hands.

  “Are you trying to tell us you don’t like the idea?” I suggested.

  “Madness! No, never. Since the last time we used the time-helix there has been nothing but temporal feedback along the static synergy curves…”

  “Please, Professor Coypu,” I begged. “Simplify, if you please. Treat me and your good master, Inskipp here, as if we were scientific imbeciles.”

  “Which you are. I was forced to use the time-helix once to save us all from dissolution, then was prevailed upon to use it again to rescue you from the past. It shall not be used again—you have my word!”

  Inskipp proved he was made of sterner stuff than any rebellious physicist. He stepped forward briskly until he and Coypu were in eyeball-to-eyeball contact—or rather nose-to-nose contact since they both had impressive honkers. Once in position he let fire a salvo of drill sergeant oaths followed by some very realistic threats.

  “And as your employer if I say go–you go. Without a trace. You won’t be killed, we are not that cruel, but you will be back teaching first-year physics to moronic students on a backwater planet so far from the civilized haunts of man that they think time machine means a watch. Going to cooperate?”

  “You can’t threaten me,” Coypu blustered.

  “I already have. You have one minute left. Guards!” Two anthropoid brutes in wrinkled uniforms appeared on each side of the little professor and seized him strenuously by the arms so that his toes dangled just clear of the floor. “Thirty seconds,” Inskipp sussurated with all the warmth of a striking cobra.

  “I’ve always wanted to run more calibrating tests on the time-helix,” Coypu backwatered quickly.

  “Fine,” Inskipp relented. “Toes on deck, that’s it. This will be an easy one. You will flip our friend here about one week back in time, along with the means to return when his mission is accomplished. We will give you the coordinates and time to which he is to be returned. You need know nothing else. Are you ready, diGriz?”

  “As ready as I will ever be.” I looked at the spacesuit and the pile of equipment I had assembled. “Suit up and let’s get going. I am as eager to see what happened as you are, and even more eager to return since I have done this time travel gig before and it is hard on the system.”

  The coiled spring of the time-helix glowed greenly, with all the attraction of a serpent’s eye. I sighed and prepared for the journey. I almost wished that I had submitted myself to the clammy, corpselike embrace of the tax man.

  Almost.

  Four

  The mere fact that this was not my first trip through time did nothing to alter the uncomfortable sensations of the journey. Once again I felt the wrenching in a new and undescribable direction, yet again saw the stars whizzing by like rockets. It was very uncomfortable and lasted far too long. Then the sensations ceased as quickly as they had begun, the grayness of time-space vanished to be replaced by a healthy black universe speckled with stars. I floated in null-G, turning slowly, admiring the spectacle of the satellite station as it swung into view. I took a quick bleep with the radar unit on my chest and saw that I was ten kilometers away, just the spot where I should have been. The satellite was a good-sized one, studded with aerial arrays and blinking beacons, its many windows glowing with lights. Filled, I was sure, with rotund admirals swilling and swigging and occasionally doing a bit of military business. But they had a surprise coming which I was looking forward to. I tuned my radio to their time signal broadcast and found I was an hour later than our target time; Coypu would be interested in hearing that. But I still had almost five hours to kill before the moment of truth. For all the obvious reasons I could not smoke a cigar in the spacesuit—but I could still drink. And I had taken the simple precaution of draining the water from the suit’s tank and topping it up instead with a mixture of bourbon and water. Some 32,000 years earlier, on a planet named Earth, I had developed a taste for this beverage. Though that planet had long since been destroyed, I had brought back the formula and, after a certain amount of lethal experimentation, had learned to produce a potable imitation. I wrapped my lips around the helmet drinking tube and poted. Good indeed. I admired the brilliant stars, the nearby satellite, recite
d poetry to myself and the hours flew by.

  Just five minutes before the important event was to happen, I was aware of a sudden movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see another spacesuited figure floating nearby. Seated on a two-meter-long rocket-shaped object. I whipped out my pistol, I had insisted on bringing it since I had no idea what I would be facing, and pointed it at the newcomer.

  “Keep your hands in sight and turn so I can see you. This gun is loaded with explosive shells.”

  “Put it away, stupid,” the other said back still turned to me while he worked on the control panel of the rocket. “If you don’t know who I am no one does.”

  “Me!” I said, trying not to gape.

  “No, I. Me is you, or some such. Grammar isn’t up to this kind of thing. The gun, blockhead!”

  I closed my jaw with a clack and slid the pistol back into its holster.

  “Would you mind explaining?”

  “I had better since you, or I, didn’t have enough brains to think of this in the first place so a second trip had to be made. To bring this spacewarp leech along.” He looked at his watch, or I looked at my watch or something like that, then he (I?) pointed. “Keep the eyes peeled—this is really going to be good.”

  It was. Space beyond the satellite was empty—then an instant later it wasn’t. Something large, very large, appeared and hurtled toward the satellite. I was aware of a dark, knobbed, elongated form, that suddenly split open in the front. The opening was immense, glowing with a hellish light, gaping like a planet-consuming mouth lined with pinnacles of teeth.

  “The teeth!” my radio crackled loudly, the single message from the lost—or to-be-lost satellite, then the great mouth was chomping shut and the station vanished from sight in the instant. A streak of fire seared my vision and the white form of the spacewarp leech hurled itself forward at the attacker. None too soon, because there was the sudden shimmer of an operating warp field about the giant shape—then it was gone again.

  “What was it?” I gasped.

  “How do I know,” I said. “And if I did I wouldn’t tell you. Now get back so I can get back or you can, I mean—the hell with it. Move.”

  “Don’t bully,” I muttered. “I don’t think I should talk to myself this way.” I triggered the switch on the case of the return time-helix. And, uncomfortably, returned.

  “What did you find out?” Inskipp asked as soon as my helmet was opened.

  “Mainly that I have to go back a second time. Order up a spacewarp leech and I’ll be happy to explain.” I decided against going to the trouble of getting out of the suit and putting it on again. So I leaned against the wall and took a long drag on my bourbon pacifier. Inskipp sniffed the air loudly.

  “Are you boozing on the job?”

  “Of course. It is one of the things that makes the work bearable. Now, kindly shut and listen. Something really big appeared out of warpspace, just seconds away from the satellite. A neat bit of navigation that I did not think was possible but which obviously is. Whatever it was opened its shining mouth, all lined with teeth, and swallowed the admirals, space stations and all…”

  “It’s the drink, I knew it!”

  “No it’s not and I can prove it because my camera was going all the time. Then, as soon as the thing had had lunch, it zipped back into warpdrive and was gone.”

  “We must get a spacewarp leech onto it.”

  “That’s just what I told myself who came back with said object and launched it in the right direction.” Right on cue the leech was rolled in. “Great. Come on, Coypu, get me and this thing back to five minutes before zero hour and I will be able to get out of this suit. By the way, you were an hour out in my first arrival and I expect better timing on this run.”

  Coypu muttered over the recalibration, set dials to his satisfaction, I grabbed onto the long white form of the leech and off I went again. The scenario was the same as the first time, only from a different point of view. By the time I had returned from the second trip I had had enough of time travel and wanted nothing more than a large meal with a small bottle of wine and a soft bed for afters. I got all of these, including more than enough time to enjoy them, for almost a week went by before a report came in about the spacewarp leech. I was with Inskipp when the message arrived and he did a certain amount of eye-boggling and squinting at the sheet as if rereading would change it.

  “This is impossible,” he finally said.

  “That’s what I like about you, Inskipp, ever the optimist.” I plucked the message from his soggy fingers and read it myself, then checked the coordinates on the chart behind his desk. He was right. Almost.

  The spacewarp leech had done its job well. I had fired the thing off in time and it had homed on the satellite gobbler and attached itself to whatever the thing was. They had zipped off together into warpspace where the leech simply held on until emerging into normal space again. Even if there had been multiple jumps the leech was programmed to stay close until it either detected atmosphere or the mass of a planet or a space station. At which point it had come unglued and drifted away; it was wholly nonmetallic and virtually undetectable. Once it had arrived it used chemical rockets to leave the vicinity of its arrival while it checked for a League beacon. As soon as it found the nearest one it had warped there and announced its arrival. Needless to say it had taken photographs in all directions when it arrived at its original target area. At that point the computers chortled over the star sights and determined the point in space from which they had been taken. Only this time the answer they came up with was impossible.

  “Or very improbable,” I said, tapping the chart. “But if the location is correct I have the nasty feeling we are in for some trouble.”

  “You don’t think it was just a coincidence that it was the admirals who got kidnapped?”

  “Ha-ha.”

  “Yes, I thought you would say that.”

  To understand our problem you have to ponder the physical nature of our galaxy for a moment. Yes, I know it’s boring stuff, and best left for the astrophysicists and other dull sods who enjoy this sort of thing. But explanation is necessary. It if helps, think of the galaxy as being shaped like a starfish. It isn’t really, but that’s good enough for this kind of simplistic stuff. The legs and center of the starfish are groups of stars, with some other stars in between the legs, along with space gas and random molecules and such. Hope I haven’t lost you because I know I’m confusing myself. Anyway, all of the League stars are situated in one arm right up at the top there, sticking straight up. A few other surveyed suns are near the hub and a scattered few more in the arms to the left and right. Got that? Okay. Now it seems that our toothy satellitenapper had come from the way down in the lower left leg.

  Well why not, you might say, it’s all part of the same galaxy. Well, aha, I say right back. But it is a part of the galaxy we have never been to, have never contacted, have never explored. There are no inhabited planets way down there.

  Inhabited by human beings, that is. In all the thousands of years that mankind has been hurtling around the galaxy we have never found another intelligent life form. We have found traces of long-vanished civilizations, but millions of years separate us from them. During the days of colonial expansion, the Stellar Empire, the Feudal Follies and such bits of nonsense, ships went off in all directions. Then came the Breakdown and the bustup of communications for many thousands of years. We are coming out of that now. Contacting planets in all states of civilization—or lack of it. But we’re not expanding. Maybe we will again, someday, but meanwhile the League is busy picking up the pieces from the first expansion.

  Except now there is a new ball game.

  “What are you going to do?” Inskipp asked.

  “Me? I’m going to do nothing except watch you issue orders to investigate this interesting situation.”

  “Right. This is order one. You, diGriz, get out there and investigate.”

  “I’m overworked. You have the resources of a
thousand planets to draw upon, entire navies, albeit minus the admirals usually in charge, agents galore. Use some of them for a change.”

  “No. I have the strong feeling that feeding a normal patrol ship into this situation will be like asking them to take a stroll through the guts of an atomic pile.”

  “A confused description—but I get the message.”

  “I hope so. You are the crookedest agent I know. You have a sense of survival that, so far, has made you unkillable. I am banking on that and the hideously twisted convolutions of your warped mind to get you through. So get out there and see what the hell is happening, and get back with a report.”

  “Do I have to bring the admirals back?”

  “Only if you want to. We have plenty more where they came from.”

  “You are heartless and cruel, Inskipp, and as big a crook as I am.”

  “Of course. How else do you think I run this outfit? When do you leave and what do you need?”

  I had to think about that. I couldn’t go without telling my Angelina, and once she learned how dangerous it would be she would insist on coming. Fine. I’m a male chauvinist pig at heart, but I know true talent when I see it and I would rather have her with me than all of the rest of the Special Corps. But what about the boys? The answer to that was obvious as well. With their natural bent and inherited characteristics they were fit only for lives of crime or careers in the Corps. They would have to be blooded sometime and this looked very much like the time. So it was settled. I unglazed my eyes and realized that I had been muttering to myself for some minutes and that Inskipp was looking at me in a very suspicious manner and reaching slowly for the scramble button on his desk. I groped through my memory for the question he had asked me before I had sunk into my coma.

  “Ahh, yes, hm, of course. I leave soonest, I have my own crew, but I want a fully automated grinder class cruiser with all armaments, etc.”

  “Done. It will take twenty hours to get one here. You have that long to pack and write a new will.”