Harry Harrison - The Stainless Steel Rat Wants You

Indeed they lacked any sense of humor and I was the only one smiling when I was led away. There was not too much rough stuff, too many people around for that, as well as the fact that it really went against the Blodgett personality. The best selling chewing gum on the planet was called Cud, and they really chewed it. Sirens screamed, cars raced and I was hauled off in irons.

Though not to prison, that was the funny part. We did reach the prison gate but were stopped at the entrance where there was a lot of shouting and even some fist waving. Then back into the cars and off again to the town hall where, to my surprise, the manacles were removed before I was led into the building. I knew something strange was happening when I was pushed through an unmarked door—with at least one boot toe helping me on my way. The door closed, I brushed my rumpled clothes, then turned and raised my eyebrows at the familiar figure in the chair behind the desk.

“What a pleasant surprise,” I said. “Been keeping well…?”

“I ought to have you shot, diGriz,” he snarled.

Inskipp, my boss, head of the Special Corps, probably the man with the single greatest amount of power in the galaxy. The Special Corps was empowered by the League to keep the interstellar peace, which it did in exemplary fashion. If not always in the most honest way. It has been said that you set a thief to catch a thief—and the Corps personified this ideal. At one time, before joining the Corps, Inskipp had been the biggest crook in the lenticular galaxy; an inspiration to us all. I am forced to admit that I too had led a less than exemplary life before my forced conversion to the powers of goodness. An incomplete conversion, as you may have noticed, though I like to feel that my heart is in the right place. Even if my fingers are not. I took out the blank pistol that I carried for just such occasions and pressed it to the side of my head.

“If you think I should be shot, great Inskipp, then I can but help you. Goodbye cruel world…” I pulled the trigger and it made a satisfactory bang.

“Stop horsing around, diGriz. This is serious.”

“It always is with you, whereas I believe that a certain amount of levity aids the digestion. Let me take that thread from your lapel.”

I did, and slipped his cigar case from his pocket at the same time. He was so distracted that he did not notice this until I lit up and offered him one as well. He snatched the case back.

“I need your help,” he said.

“Of course. Why else would you be here fixing charges and such. Where is my darling Angelina?”

“Out of jail and on the way home to curb your larcenous offspring. The morons on this planet may not know what has happened to their tax files but I do. However, we will forget that for the moment since a ship is waiting at the spaceport to take you to Kakalak-two.”

“A drab planet circling a dark star. And what will I find at this unpromising location?”

“It’s what you won’t find that counts. The satellite base there was the site of the biannual meeting of all planetary chiefs of staff of the League Navy…”

“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.