Harry Harrison - The Stainless Steel Rat for President

"Better and better. I watched the news when I was passing as a tourist at the beach hotel. Everything seemed to go quite smoothly. Even the funeral. Very realistic. You would almost think that there was a real body buried in my grave."

"There is," Angelina said, suddenly very serious. "We have some good news and some bad news. The bad news is that one of our party workers named Adolfo was killed. He was our best operative in Primoroso, a card shark who helped rig a number of ballot boxes. He was shot by the Ultimados. They brought him to the hospital while you were there. He died a few minutes later. They couldn't find his friends, so we made the most of the opportunity."

"Poor Adolfo. He really wasn't a very good card player. May he rest in peace." I sighed and drank a silent toast to his memory. "And the good news?"

The twins looked glum as she told me. "Jorge and Flavia have been married. They were engaged for years but swore not to wed until their homeworld was free."

"How romantic. Sorry boys. But there are other girls in the galaxy. Now please tell me, what about the real Sir Hector?"

"We followed your instructions," Bolivar said. "Pumped him full of Zapilote's expensive geriatric drugs, shaved off his beard and gave him a face lift. He looks thirty years younger and can easily pass for his own son. Right now he is back at work on his research—taking up his 'father's' work where the old man left off. He still is not quite sure what happened to him, but the faithful family retainers are taking care of him."

"Well, if I must say so myself, that was a very neat operation. All of the ends tied up, the bad guys knocked out, the good marquez running the whole show, peace and prosperity now the rule on Paraiso-Aqui. A little episode in the battle against injustice and boredom that we all can be proud of."

"I'll drink to that," Angelina said, popping the cork from a bottle. "One last glass of champagne before we all go on the wagon."

"It will hold down the ron," I said, accepting with thanks.

We raised our glasses on high and drained them. It was a joy to be alive in this pleasant universe, particularly with a family like mine. Then the champagne hit the aged ron and I felt a mild rumble in my midriff that was followed instantly by a quick blast of gastric fire. Angelina was right, it was time to go on the wagon.

After this bottle was finished, of course.