Гарри Гаррисон: The Return of The Stainless Steel Rat

"You are the only one who can save us, diGriz! Say that you will do it, I beg of you..."

The words were music to my ears. I try to be humble in my own simple way, but it is very hard. People keep telling me how great I am. They know that I have saved the universe - twice at least - so they feel, rightly enough I suppose, that I can do anything.

"...please help. Four men have died already, that is why we need you..."

His words dropped me from the heights of elation into the abyss of despair. I snapped at him.

"So that's what you need me for. To be corpse number five. You think I'll look good in a coffin?"

There it was, of course. You get a reputation and you have to live up to it - even if you die in the attempt. I rose from my chair and paced the length of the room, trying to ignore the delegates grouped uneasily against the wall. Why should I listen to them? Why me, James Bolivar diGriz, the Stainless Steel Rat? Outcast of society - yet still a hero of society? A lifetime criminal who was now being called upon to for help by the very people I preyed upon. It wasn't fair.

"Not fair!" I cried. "I should be robbing you blind, not doing you favours."

They nodded eagerly at this.

"Rob us, Jim, rob us! We don't mind. Only finish this little job first!"

I sighed deeply. There is no escaping one's destiny. "Before I decide, would someone mind telling me just what the hell this is all about?"

All they needed was the starting whistle. In an instant they had the hologram projector up and running. A holo of a satellite station sprang into existence before me, soft music played and a deep voice began speaking.

"This is the orbiting satellite Stanyan VI. It is the port of call of all deep spacers approaching the Stanyan System."

The spidery form of a spacer drifted up to the image and docked to drive home the point.

"Cargo is then transhipped to the thirteen planets that comprise this solar system. The operation is successful, safe and speedy."

Violins swelled up in the background playing successful, safe and speedy music. I began to doze off - but a crash of brass and timpani woke me up.

"But everything has changed!" The announcer gasped. "It all began when this passenger shuttle went out of control..."

The familiar egg-shaped form of a shuttle swam into view, drifting towards one of the satellite's docking bays. It was completely under computer control; accidents were an impossibility, the retarding jets would fire and ease it into place. Then the impossible happened. Instead of the breaking jets being activated, the stern jets flared on - sending the shuttle hurtling forward. It was over in an instant. The shuttle crashed into the solid steel of the docking port and burst open like a silver egg hurled against a wall. Air puffed out and froze instantly. Maimed bodies were hurled free - but unhappily did not freeze as fast as the air had done. I could not take my eyes away from this gruesome scene as the narrator continued in a hushed voice.

"Thirty-seven people were killed in this accident. Which proved to be no accident at all. When the mechanic went to examine the malfunctioning navigational computer, he found that a ten thousand volt current had been shorted though the metal door of the computer room..."

The holo of the space station puffed out of existence and was replaced by a lifesize image of the mechanic who had tried the handle on the hotwired door. I turned away.

"I've seen a fried corpse before, thank you," I said. "Can I have the rest of this nasty story straight, without the sensational visual effects?"

The scene shifted back to the satellite again and the voice continued remorselessly.

"It soon became obvious that the navigational computer was not at fault. It had been overriden by the Central Control computer. This is the Galaxy grade, Mark 2500 model, absolutely reliable and never known to malfunction before..."

"There's a first time for everything," I shouted, trying to be heard over the booming voice and the backup orchestra. "Will someone kindly switch off this ghastly holo show! Enough is enough."

The music died with a gasping rattle and the holo popped out of existence; the lights came back up. I turned and stabbed a finger at the cowering delegates.

"Now just bring me up to date without the special effects. You have a nutsy computer that has already polished off a lot of people. And it is a Mark 2500 which probably handles hundreds of flights a day, controls thousands of operations, along with hundreds of thousands of subfunctions as well - that must be one smart computer. If it has gone gaga it won't really like anyone coming near it. The four men who were killed - they tried to turn the thing off?"

The delegates all nodded together gloomily. I nodded as well.

"I thought so. Have you evacuated the satellite?"

At this they shook their heads more gloomily. The leader of the delegation spoke.

"It won't let us. The Mark 2500. All of the ports were sealed and we can't get near the satellite. And there are over three hundred passengers trapped inside. You must save them, diGriz! Their lives are in your hands..."

"Not yet they're not! They are still in your hands, which is why you are here - and why you are worrying so. You're all sweating - and I think I know why. This delegation represents the corporation that owns the satellite?"

Reluctant nods.

"And you also represent the insurance company that insures the satellite?"

Heads nodding like crazy now.

"So not only do you have a humanitarian interest in those poor souls trapped inside your hunk of space iron-mongery - but you have a financial interest as well."

Chins dropped to chests and a wave of financial despair sighed through the room. I smiled and shook my clenched fists over my head.

"Despair not gentlemen - diGriz will save you! I will turn off your kooky computer and save your prisoners!"

I waited until the cheers and shouts of joy had died down before I put the boot in.

"But, like you, I am a business man as well as a humanitarian. My reasonable and very low fee for the job will be the miserly sum of two million credits..."

I turned away and lit a cigar while their moans of pain and cries of anguish echoed from the chamber walls. Then I puffed out expensive smoke and raised my hand for silence.

"For shame," I chided. "You'll get that sum back within a few days of operation." My voice grew cold. "But if you don't get back into operation and if the relatives of the people you have allowed to be destroyed by that mad machine decide to sue you..."

Temporary interruption by wails of despair.

"...why, you will have to pay out billions. You have sixty seconds to decide. The fee will be payable one million on signing and one million upon delivery of the main fuse from the crackpot computer. Fifty-five seconds."

"How will you do it?" Someone called out.

"I'll tel you as soon as you have paid. A computer with sick circuitry is as nothing to the man who saved the universe. Twice."

Which meant that I had no idea how I was going to do it, but that was my business and not theirs. Just as their business was earning money and mine stealing it.

"Thirty-one seconds."

"It's robbery - but we agree. We have no choice."

Nor did they. Which was why I had made the fee so large. As soon as the money had been credited to my account, I threw them all out and spread out the technical reports. This was not going to be easy. I forced away the nagging realization that it was not only hard but completely impossible. Never say die! The Rat marches on. There had to be a way.

Except that three weeks later, in a shuttle floating in orbit about the insane satellite, I still hadn't found it. Nor was the captain of the shuttle any help.