Stainless Steel Rat 11: The Stainless Steel Rat Returns (24 page)

But he was firm—though his voice was shaking. “You don’t understand—Overlord is in there—he commands . . .”

“Of course,” Angelina said calmly. “He is the one we came here to see. This is an
emergency.”

Torn between conflicting orders, N’thrax had a terrible decision to make. “Open!” I snarled as I pushed my frapilo under his chin. He tried to draw away but I only pushed harder. In the end the terrified man hammered on the door.

A passerby turned to look, turned back and kept walking
when I gave him a most terrible glare. This stalemate could not last . . .

The door opened and the large and angry man stood there.

And I knew him—though no longer pink of skin.

He was the official we had talked to from the ship before we had landed here.

“Emergency!” I said and pushed the captive hard against him. “The most terrible thing has happened!”

He started to resist—then stepped aside.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Here—listen to N’thrax.” I dragged the quavering N’thrax in after us. “He was there and saw the killing—all the blood!”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Angelina and our engineer, turning and locking the door. I wasn’t feeling subtle or patient. My fist caught Overlord square on his big green jaw and he went down. N’thrax was cowering and beginning to scream, which Angelina silenced with a quick short blow. He joined his boss on the floor. I turned around and smiled.

The far wall was covered with communication equipment, gleaming screens and cameras, control panels and speakers. Lovely! I smiled at the technician—pink of skin and slack of jaw—who was kneeling before an open panel, soldering iron in hand. The only other person in the room.

“Welcome,” I said. “To the first day of what will be a long and happy life.”

“W-what . . . ?” he said.

“They are friends,” Wolfi said. “I don’t know how, but they said that we are all going off-planet.”

“After I make a singularly important call,” I said. “Which of these fine machines is your interstellar communicator?”

“Here, this one,” he said pointing to a hulking apparatus.

“Can you can send a message?” I said, while beaming a wide and beatific smile.

“No I can’t. It’s been dismantled—the guts are gone.”

My brief elation plunged downward into grim despair.

“It . . . can’t be . . .”

“It always has been like that. The last thing these green devils want is off-planet contact. It’s fine to keep the radio comms going—to lure more spacers here. You aren’t really green are you?”

“No—skin dye,” I muttered, depressed by my horrifying discovery.

“I suggest,” Angelina said, ever practical, “that we forget all about communication at the present time. And get off this depressing planet just as soon as we possibly can.”

I took a very deep breath—and gave myself a stiff mental brace. “You’re right, of course. Next plan . . . get us all out of here.”

I took a long moment to look around at the row of silent bodies on the floor—and the still dazed but now smiling former prisoners.

“You said there is one more of you here?”

“Yes, Giorgio. He’s working on the steam generator. It’s in the basement.”

“Take me there—right now,” Angelina said. “While Jim makes plans for our escape.” She took the prisoner by the arm, called back over her shoulder as I opened my mouth to protest. “Don’t argue. No time.” Then they were out of the room and closing the door behind them.

“Right,” I said, relocking the door. “Let’s get to work . . . name?”

“Tomas.”

“Tie these men up, Tomas. Use wire—you must have plenty. Then gag them so they can’t scream. Do you have a blade?”

“In the toolbox there.”

Overlord was muttering and starting to stir. I cut off the sleeve of his uniform and gagged him with it. Then wired his wrists together. He was writhing, eyes popping, chewing on the gag; I made it tighter. We had just wired up the last prisoner when there was a sharp rapping on the door. I jumped to open it and heard Angelina’s voice.

“I have two more guards here who are helping me with the prisoners.”

Forewarned, I let Angelina, the prisoners and guards go past me and closed the door behind them. Before the guards could raise their clubs they joined their mates, wired and gagged upon the floor.

“I had to enlist aid,” Angelina said. “I was getting strange enough looks with a single pink prisoner. Not to say two.”

“Well done. Always room for a few more on the floor.”

“Next—?”

“A good question.” I was suddenly very tired. I pulled out the radio operator’s chair and dropped into it.

“We are safe for the moment—I hope. So let us take the time to plan our escape.”

The three technicians were bubbling with excitement, as the possibility of leaving this planet began to sink in.

“We’ll be stopped as soon as we try to take these palefaces out of the building,” Angelina said.

“My very thought.”

“We have no more skin cream dye.”

“We don’t need it.” I whistled and they turned. “We can’t show your skin. So cut up these zonked out Greenies’s clothes. Wrap up your heads—then your hands. You will look strange, but not pink. You’ll carry clubs. There will be confusion but hopefully no attacks. Do it!”

I heaved myself out of the chair and admired the results. Then sat down again when I realized I was forgetting the most important part of the escape. The ship.

“Radio on,” I said. “Captain Singh—are you there?”

“Of course.”
His voice spoke clearly inside my head.
“What’s happening?”

“We are about to join you. Five of us in all. We are in the building complex across the field from you. We’ll be coming out of the front entrance of the larger building. Be ready to open the lower spacelock—both doors. Because when we get there we’ll be in a hurry.”

“I have you on the screen—a magnified image of the front entrance.”

“Great. We’ll be picking up more passengers on the way. Our paleface local friends who will, hopefully, take out all the green guards. Is the takeoff siren working?”

“Of course.”

“Sound it before you open the lock to alert our allies.”

“This is the most insane plan I have ever heard in my entire life. Over and out.”

“It’s nice to have encouragement . . .” I muttered. “Ready troops?”

The three masked and mittened engineers waved their clubs enthusiastically, mumbling through their masks. I pushed myself out of the chair.

“I’ll go first. Club men will follow. Angelina will bring up the rear.”

“Do it!” she said, thwacking the frapilo against her thigh.

We went. Out the door with military precision, marching in step.

I don’t think we looked particularly menacing, but we did get a lot of gape-jawed attention.

Down the stairs and out through the double doors. Straight to the opening in the fence where I beat the milling guards aside with my frapilo. The surging masses parted as well and then we were short meters from the landing field—with our welcome spacer directly ahead in the landing pads.

And standing in our way were three resolute green trackers with drawn bows. Arrows aimed.

“Stop!” their leader shouted. “Forbidden to go on field.”

A speedy resolution was needed and my gun was already in my hand.

“Run!” I shouted as I fired.

The quick explosions threw up great chunks of earth and concrete, knocked the trackers over. My shouting engineers clubbed them back to the ground as we passed.

We ran. Angelina, fleet as a deer, passed the running men and joined me in the lead.

“Great fun!” she laughed. “And look who’s up ahead!”

More green-skinned hunters waving clubs and bows. But not for long. A shouting Bram was right behind them, leading his men in the charge. Clubbing our adversaries to the ground as they caught up with them. It was quickly done.

I took one glimpse behind us—at the roaring mass of the enemy in close pursuit—and was imbued with new strength.

“To the ship!”

Which we were drawing close to—the welcoming spacelock now gaping wide—and my legs getting very tired indeed. The siren was wailing, our pursuers howling, our men cheering. Quite an interesting and unusual scene.

Up the ramp we poured, stumbling and falling, helping one another to our feet to stagger on. Once inside I leaned against the bulkhead, gasping for breath, as the ramp slowly ground back into the ship. Just before the outer door swung shut I saw a microsecond surge of flame and smoke from our landing jets: just enough to dissuade our followers.

Our pursuers screamed even louder as they turned and ran back towards safety. The outer lock ground shut, as did the inner one. I slumped down and sat with my back to the bulkhead.

“Now that was fun,” Angelina said, laughing, eyes sparkling.

I made no attempt to agree.

“Boss to bridge soonest—Boss to bridge,”
the wall speaker rasped.

I crawled to my feet, supported by the wall as I did. Supported also by the sturdy Angelina. Who was scarcely breathing hard.

“Just—ha-ha—a little out of shape.” I laughed hollowly. She wisely did not answer. “Bram, best come with us. Help us locate our landing spot. Plus you will have your first elevator ride!” And I will avoid the stairs.

“Tell me where we are going—and quickly,” the captain said in welcome. “I don’t want any more trouble here. Nor do I want to fry the locals when we take off.”

“We’re about twenty klicks from the landing site. My colleague will show you the way. Bram?” I pointed to the viewscreens that now gave a 360-degree image of the field.

He looked around slowly, orienting himself, taking his
time. I ignored the rushing green hordes that were closing in and did not hurry him. He carefully pointed.

“There. Go towards that group of trees with the low hill beyond.”

The engines roared and the deck pressed up against our feet.

The forest moved by below us and, very soon, the loop in the river came into sight. The image grew as we approached.

“There,” I said, “land in the center of the field—well away from the river. The boys have herded the porcuswine together, over by the water.”

It was a smooth landing, with only the slightest jar as we settled down. I turned and looked at Bram—who was clutching hard to the console, staring fixedly at the scene below.

“I could not believe—a thing such as this . . .” He choked out the words, overcome by the ship, the flight. Suddenly catapulted from the iron age into the advanced age of science. Angelina was looking at him as well, understanding what he was feeling. She put her arm around him.

“This is your future, Bram. You are now part of it—you will see all of its wonders.” He smiled, and nodded.

“There is much to be learned,” he said quietly, then left the bridge.

The lower airlock was already open and on the viewscreen we saw the cheering passengers streaming out onto the field, heading towards the milling herd. The porcuswine heard them, saw them and stormed past the boys for a grunting, shouting, scratching happy reunion.

“Shall we join them?” Angelina asked as she took my hand.

“We shall indeed. But I hope that you will first join me in a toast to victory. Of a kind.”

“Of course. And we did get those poor engineers out of loathsome captivity, Hans as well. That’s something to be proud of.”

After our days of roughing it the bar was a dream of luxury; soft chairs, softer music, rehabilitating drinks. We clinked glasses.

“I’ve missed the joys of civilization during our Neolithic adventures,” I said, and looked up as the captain came in.

“Happy to join you,” he said, taking a glass. “I’m off duty. Thought I would find you here. Thanks.” He drank deep and dropped into a chair. “There is much that we must talk about.”

“Indeed. But can’t it wait until later?”

“It will have to. I hate to disturb this moment of leisure, but many outside are clamoring for your attention. Stramm is keeping them at bay—since he is concerned about who he lets into the ship.”

“Understandable.” I creaked when I stood up.

“I’ll join you later,” Angelina said. “I won’t feel clean until I have scrubbed off this awful green color.”

“You want to go out there?” Stramm said accusingly, when I came up. He was looking at the screen above the lock controls that showed the scene directly outside. Bram was there, talking with two of his trackers. A scowling Elmo was sitting on the grass, chewing on a straw and looking most aggrieved.

“If it is permitted, I do,” I answered.

“No one gets back inside until I say so. The maintenance is running weeks behind so I can’t babysit strangers.”

“Agreed. But we may have to get out of here in a hurry. The grotty Greenies will be here in force as soon as they get organized. They will not be happy.”