Harry Harrison - The Stainless Steel Rat Gets Drafted

Book? What book? Oh, the book I had lifted from the cabin about four hundred and twelve years earlier. When I held it up and squinted I could just make out the title in the illumination of the distant lamps. Veterinary Practice in Robot Cavalry Units.

It dropped from my limp fingers as my back slid slowly down the tree until I was sitting on the ground.

I rested there in the darkness, let the sweat evaporate, tried not to think about veterinaries for robot horses - and pondered the significance of the sealed door on the communications room.

For openers, it had not been sealed shut to keep me from getting inside. As much as I valued my own importance I was well aware that others, Zennor in particular, were not struck with fear by my presence. For example the combat-ready captain earlier this night. No, Zennor had the door sealed for his own reasons. What were they? Work backward from the obvious.

The door on this ship was sealed, so probably all of the comm rooms on all the spacers had been sealed. It made no sense to shut just a single one. Why? To stop communication, obviously. Between who and whom? Or whom and who for that matter. It couldn't be intended to stop planetary communication. That was still needed for the not-too-successful invasion. Ground-based radios would suffice for that. Spacer comm rooms sealed obviously meant that ship-to-ship communication would cease. That was of no importance since the entire fleet had already landed.

Which left only interstellar communication. Of course! The rush to leave, the secrecy about our destination. Zennor knew that the League Navy was after him, knew that they could only stop him if they knew where he was going. Or where this planet was. So the invasion was a one-way affair. A gamble huried into interstellar space. Not much of a gamble against an unarmed enemy. Zennor knew that the Navy had spies, all those detector vans had been evidence of that. He was convinced that I worked for the League and there might be other League agents in his army. So communication had been cut off until the invasion succeeded. After that there would be nothing that the Navy could do.

This was good for the invasion - but very bad news for me. I had sent the radio message for help, which even now was limping steadily across interstellar space at the miserable speed of light. I had better forget about it. And forget as well about sending an FTL message for the time being. What I had to do now was think local. I might have to spend the rest of my life on this planet. If I did remain here I didn't want to do it with Zennor and his military goons breathing down my neck. Desertion, that was the name of the game. I had to get his army away from him. When all the draftees had been dispersed about the land I would consider the next step. Which didn't bear considering. Maybe I should open a distillery and supply free booze to his officers and noncoms? From what I had seen, with the correct encouragement, they all would be dead of cirrhosis within the year.

I yawned and realized that my eyes were closed and I was half asleep.

"Never!" I growled, climbing to my feet. "Fall asleep here, Jim my boy, and the chances are that you will wake up dead. To work! Next step is to get your chunk off this base, for your work here is done for the moment. Back to warmth and light and female companionship, away from solitary males, cursing, drinking, gambling and all the other military pleasures. Away!"

But was I ever tired. Instead of walking it would sure be nice to have a bit of transportation. Somewhere near HQ there had to be vehicles, since officers rarely walked. Nor were these vehicles too hard to find. Just behind the HO

building there was a motorpool, unguarded apparently. And there, looming darkly behind the staff cars, the shape of a command car. One I was very familiar with. I drifted over and climbed into it. No guards needed at this motorpool because all the ignition keys had been taken away. I smiled into the darkness. This crate could be hotwired faster than a key could be fumbled into the lock. I bent, pulled, twisted. Sparks sizzled and the fuel cell hissed into life. Boldly on with the headlights, into gear and away.

Away to where? Not the gates surely. During the daytime it might be possible to drive out behind a convoy. But right now the gates would be closed and I would have to produce a pass or some sound reason for nighttime maneuvers. I could think of no sound reason. I drove on slowly, past one of the gates and along a perimeter road that circled the camp, just inside the barbed wire fence. For security patrols undoubtedly. I drove along it until a grove of trees came between me and the lights of the camp. I angled the headlights toward the fence, locked the gears in neutral and climbed down to look at the barrier.

It was a ten-strand barbed wire fence. There were surely alarms attached if it were breached, but I could see no sign of disturbed earth, tripwires or circuitry that might lead to mines. Just bashing through it might be a chance worth taking. It didn't matter if the alarm were raised. By the time the sluggish troops reached the site I would be long gone. I raced the engine, put it in the lowest gear, floored the accelerator and ground forward.

The wire fence screeched and tore. There was a fine show of crackling sparks - I thought it might be electrified, but the combat car was shielded - and then it all tore away and I was through. Kicking up through the gears and tearing away through the empty streets. Pulling the wheel and screeching around a plaza with a large statue of Mark Forer gazing down serenely from a plinth, and out the broad avenue on the far side. I recognized this street, I had walked this way before when we had first escaped.

The river and bridges were up ahead. With the residential suburbs on the far side.

When I trundled my battle wagon across the bridge there was still no sign of pursuit. Fine. Time to go to ground. I turned off along the river bank, put the gears in low-low, angled toward the water and jumped down. The car ground steadily on, demolished a bench - sorry about that - and plowed majestically over the edge. There was plenty of burbling and splashing, then nothing. The river was deep here. Behind me I could hear the wail of distant sirens. I walked briskly through the park and into the nearest street. Though I was tired I needed to put some distance between myself and the river, in case there were tracks left which might be seen by day.

"Enough is enough, Jim!" I said, leaning against a wall and all too aware that I was drooping with fatigue, I had turned corners at random, lost myself completely, and the river was far behind me. There was a gate in the wall beside me, with Dun Roamin carved into the wood. Message received. Without hesitation I opened the gate, climbed the steps beyond and knocked on the front door. I had to do it a second time before there were stirrings inside and a light came on. Even after all the time here on Chojecki I still found it hard to believe that this was the correct way to meet strangers.

"Who is it?" a male voice called out as the door opened. "Jim diGriz, offworlder, tired."

The light came on and an ancient citizen with wispy gray beard blinked out myopically at me.

"Can it be? It certainly is! Oh what luck for old Czolgoscz! Come in brave offworlder and share my hospitality. What may I do for you?"

"Thank you, thank you. For openers let's get these lights off just in case there is a patrol around. And then a bed for the night…"

"My pleasure! Illumination off, follow closely, this way, my daughter's room, now married and living on a farm, forty geese and seventeen cows, here we are. Curtains closed, a moment, then the lights!"

Old Czolgoscz, although he tended to talk too much, was the perfect host. The room was pink with lace curtains and about twenty dolls on the bed.