“No! Two wrongs do not make a right. It is forbidden.”

  “You cannot stop us, for you have no authority here. You can only order us killed to stop us. If we are not killed we will do what must be done as ordered by our own moral code.”

  “You will be stopped…”

  “Only by death. If you cannot order us killed remove yourself and your interference.” Hanasu turned his back and walked away. Jay moved his jaw a few times, but had trouble talking. He was also turning blue. I waved two of the schoolboys over.

  “Here, lads. Help this poor old man back into his ship so he can warm up and consider the old philosophical problem of an irresistible force meeting an immovable object.”

  Jay tried to protest, but they gave him a firm clutch and frog-marched him back aboard.

  “What happens now?” Angelina asked.

  “The Kekkonshiki are unleashed and go out and try to win the war. There is no way that the Morality Corps can find justification for killing them in order to stop them from saving us. I think that will be a little too much hair-splitting even for Jay and Incuba. He can maybe order us not to give aid to the Kekkonshiki, but will probably have a hard time justifying even that.”

  “I’m sure that you are right. Then what is next?”

  “Next? Why, saving the galaxy, of course. Again.”

  “That’s my ever-modest husband,” she said, but tempered her admonitory words by kissing me soundly.

  Twenty-Two

  “That really looks impressive, don’t you think?” I asked.

  “I think it looks disgusting,” Angelina said, wrinkling her nose. “Not only that, they stink.”

  “An improvement over the first model. Remember, where we are going anything bad must be good.”

  In a way Angelina was right. It did look disgusting. Which was good, very good. We stood at the front of the main cabin of the spaceliner we had commandeered for this job. Before us stretched row after row of heavy chairs, almost five hundred in all. And in each chair there crouched, or flopped, or oozed, a singularly repulsive alien. Something to gladden the eyestalks of the enemy I was sure, for all of these had been patterned after my first alien disguise. More of the same race, the Geshtunken. What would not have gladdened the multiple hearts and plasma pumps of the enemy, if they had known, was the fact that each of these aliens held a solemn-faced Kekkonshiki. While built into each thrashing tail was a high powered synaptic generator. Our crusade for peace had begun.

  Not that organizing it had been easy. The Morality Corps was still resolutely set against our brain-twisting the enemy. But their authority worked through planetary governments and the heads of staff. For once I blessed the complex tangle of bureaucratic tanglement. While orders were issued and routed a few of us in the Special Corps launched a rush program to circumvent the orders before we received them. Key technicians were whisked away and their destination lost in the files. A protesting Prof Coypu was ripped from his midnight bed and found himself in deep space before he had put his socks on. A certain highly automated manufacturing planet had been co-opted by our agents and the Kekkonshiki volunteers were spacelifted there. While the alien disguises were being fabricated, Hanasu headed the programming team of psychcontrol technicians. We had barely succeeded in time, finally blasting off short hours ahead of the battleship that Morality Corps had dispatched to stop us. In the end this aided instead of hurting since we zipped up to the alien fleet with the battleship belting along after us. A few barrages from the spacewhales had it turning tail.

  “We’re within communication distance now,” I announced. “Are you ready for your work, Kekkonshiki volunteers?”

  “We are ready,” came the loud but unemotional response.

  “Good luck, then. On suits, my crew.”

  I climbed into my alien outfit and Angelina got into hers. James was in one robot disguise, Bolivar in the other. They waved, then clanged the tops shut. I zipped my neck and turned on the communicator.

  “My darling Sleepery Jeem returned from the grave!” a repulsive thing with claws and tentacles rattled and gurgled at me from the screen.

  “I do not know you, ugly sir,” I simpered. “But you must have made the acquaintance of my twin. I am her sister, Sleepery Bolivar.” I actuated the trigger that released a large and oily tear that trickled down my lengthened eyelashes and splashed to the deck. “Back on Geshtunken we heard of her noble death. We have come for vengeance!”

  “Welcome, welcome,” the thing gurgled and writhed. “I am Sess-Pula, the new commander of all the forces. Join me at once and we will have great stinking banquet!”

  I did as ordered, joining our ships and rolling to his rotten welcome with Angelina at my side. I had to sidestep neatly to avoid Sess’s wet embrace and he squashed to the deck instead.

  “Meet Ann-Geel, my chief of staff. These little robots bring gifts of food and drink which we will now consume.”

  The party rolled into high gear at once, and more and more of the ship’s officers came to join us until I wondered who was flying the thing. Probably no one. “How goes the war?” I asked.

  “Terrible!” Sess moaned, draining a flagon of something green and bubbly. “Oh, we have the alien crunchies on the run all right, but they won’t stop and fight. Morale runs low since all of our soldiers are fed up with war and want only to return to the sticky embraces of their loved things. But the war must go on. I think.”

  “Help is on the way,” I cried, slapping him on the back, then wiping off my hand on the rug. “My ship is filled with bloodthirsty volunteers all lusting for war and victory and vengeance. In addition to being great fighters and having good senses of smell, my troops are great navigators and fire control officers, watchkeeping officers and cooks.”

  “By Slime-Gog we can use them!” Sess gurgled aloud. “Do you have many troops with you?”

  “Well,” I said coyly. “We might just have enough to spare one for each of your battleships, and each battleship can lead a fleet, and if the officers of the fleet want advice or morale boosting they are welcome to talk to my people who work night and day and are sexy to boot.”

  “We are saved!” he screamed.

  Or lost, I thought to myself, smiling toothily at the disgusting revelry on all sides. I wondered how long it would take for my brainscrambling saboteurs to get the job done.

  Not long, not long at all. Since the aliens had had to be convinced to go to war in the first place, were fed up in the second place, they were ripe for subversion in the third place. The rot spread and it was only a few days later that Sess-Pula slithered up to me in the navigation room where I was making sure, by rotten navigation, that we didn’t catch up with the fleeing human fleet. He looked gloomily at the screen with a halfdozen blood-shot eyestalks.

  “Not sleeping too well lately?” I asked, flicking one of his rudy orbs with a claw. He sucked it back in unhappily.

  “You can say that again, bold Woleevar. It is all too depressing, the fleet seems to be getting away, back in my home hive last year’s crop of virgins will be approaching estrous. I keep asking myself what I am doing here.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I don’t know. My heart has gone out of this war.”

  “Funny. I was thinking the same thing last night. Have you noticed that the aliens really aren’t too crunchy? They have damp eyes and nasty-looking wet red things in their mouths.”

  “You’re right!” he slobbered. “I never thought of that before. What can we possibly do?”

  “Well…” I said, and for all apparent purposes that was that. Ten hours later, after a lot of radioing back and forth among the ships, the mightiest fighting armada the galaxy had ever seen was cutting a great arc in space. Turning, reversing, going back to the creepy places from whence they had come.

  In the drunken party that evening that celebrated the victorious end of the war—they had rationalized it that way with some help—I and Angelina clutched claws and looked around at the disgusting sights on all sides.

  “They are really sort of sweet when you get used to them,” she said.

  “I wouldn’t go quite as far as to say that. But they are rather harmless once they abandon all the war plans.”

  “Rich, too,” the James robot said, pouring something nasty into my glass.

  “We have been doing a little investigating,” Bolivar said, rolling up on the other side. “In their various operations they have captured ships and planets and satellites. They emptied all the bank vaults since they knew that we valued their contents, though they didn’t know why. They do not have money as we have it.”

  “I know,” I said. “They have the Eckh Unit, which is best left undescribed.”

  “Right, Dad,” James said. “So when they raided all the treasuries they sent the stuff here to the command battleship, hoping something would figure out what to do with it. What they did do with it was to store it all in one of the holds.”

  “Let me guess,” Angelina said. “The hold is now empty?”

  "You’re always right, Mom. And the transport ship is sort of full.”

  “We’ll have to return the loot to the sources from whence it came,” I said, and was pleased at the two shocked robotic looks and one alien stare of despair.

  “Jim…!” Angelina gasped.

  “Do not worry. I have all my senses. I mean we’ll have to return the alien loot that we found…”

  “…but we didn’t recover very much.” She finished the sentence for me.

  Something heavy, greenish-brown, tentacled and clawed, quashed down noisily next to me.

  “To victory!” Sess-Pula shouted. “We must drink to victory! Silence, everyone, silence, while the pulchritudinous Sleepery proposes a toast.”

  “I shall!” I shouted, jumping to my feet. Aware of the sudden silence and the fact that every eyepad, eyestalk, optic tentacle, not to mention six human eyeballs, was fixed upon me.

  “A toast,” I called out, raising my glass on high so enthusiastically that some of the drink slopped out and burned a hole in the carpet.

  “A toast to all the creatures that live in our universe, large and small, solid and sloppy. May peace and love be their lot forever more. Here’s to life, liberty—and the opposite sex!”

  And thus we rushed down the light years toward a far, far better future.

  I hope.

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  Table of Contents

  main The Stainless Steel Rat Wants You Harry Harrison Transcriber’s note

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  The Stainless Steel Rat for President

  V of The Stainless Steel Rat

  Harry Harrison

  Orion (Dec 1981)

  * * *

  Tags: Fiction

  You can't keep a good rat down, not one as slippery as Jim di Griz alias the Stainless Steel Rat. And you can't keep his nose out of trouble either.Jim and the lethal, luscious Angelina owe themselves a honeymoon and Paraiso-Aqui looks like the place. Settled long ago by voyagers from the southern continent of Earth (or Dirt as it was known) Paraiso is warm and easy. But all is not well in paradise. The serpentine tyrant General Julio Zapilote is about to sail back into office in another rigged election, and the chance to scupper him is just too good for Jim to miss. Corruption, bribery, graft and chicanery - for the Rat it's just like coming home.

  The Stainless Steel Rat for President

  HARRY HARRISON

  Chapter 1

  “Can you think of a special toast?” I asked, watching closely as the waiter filled our glasses with the sparkling vintage wine.

  “I certainly can,” my dear Angelina said, raising her glass and looking across it straight into my eyes. “To my husband, Jim diGriz, who has just saved the universe. Again.” I was touched. Particularly by the again. Since I am by nature extremely modest, it is always a pleasure to have my personal feelings about my abilities supported by an unsolicited testimonial. Particularly from one as lovely, charming, intelligent, and dangerously ruthless as my Angelina. She had also been present during the entire affair with the Slimeys, had even been an active participant while I was stopping them from taking over our galaxy, so I treasured her opinion even more.

  “You are too kind,” I murmured. “But truth will out. However it is all over now and we will forget the grim parts, drink to the victories—and enjoy the best meal that this restaurant can provide.”

  We touched glasses and drank deep. Over my wife’s shoulder I admired the orange Blodgett sun setting behind the purple skyline, the sunlight striking reflections from the canal outside. And out of the comers of my eyes I kept close watch on the two heavies seated by the door who had our table under subtle surveillance. I didn’t know who they were—but I did know that they were packing large guns in their damp armpits.

  I would not let them spoil the occasion! Angelina and I made light talk, drank the wine, gorged ourselves on the curried mastodon. The string quartet played, darkness fell, we lingered over coffee and liqueur—and Angelina took out a tiny mirror as she touched up her lipstick.

  2 The Stainless Steel Rat for President

  “You do know that there are two thugs by the entrance who have been watching us closely ever since we arrived.” I sighed and nodded and took out my cigar case. “Unhappily, my sweet, I do. I did not mention them for fear they would spoil the meal.” “Nonsense! It just added a little spice to the dinner.” “Most perfect wife,” I enthused, smiling as I lit my cigar. “This planet radiates boredom. Anything with the slightest whiff of interest can only be an improvement.” “I’m glad you feel like that …” She glanced into her mirror. “Because they are on their way over here now. Is there anything I can do to help? I only have this tiny evening bag,

  so I’m not really prepared. Just a few grenades, a sonic bomb or two, nothing important.”

  “Is that all?” I asked, eyebrows reaching for my hairline. My Angelina never ceases to amaze.

  “No. This lipstick is a one-shot pistol, deadly at fifty meters…”

  “We won’t need that,” I said hurriedly. “Not for just two of them. You sit and watch. A little exercise to aid my digestion.” “Four. They’ve been joined by some friends.” “The odds are still in my favor.”

  I could hear them thudding up behind me now—and I relaxed. From the weight of their steps they could only be police. Criminals might have given me some trouble. But the local police! I could polish off a squad before breakfast—and still have an appetite for lunch. The footsteps stopped as the burliest one appeared before me. I tensed as he reached into

  a pocket—then relaxed as he produced nothing more deadly than an ornate golden badge studded with precious stones.

  “I am Captain Kretin of the Blodgett police. While you, I believe, are the individual who operates under the alias of the Stainless Steel Rat …”

  Alias indeed! As though I were a common criminal. I ground my teeth with rage as I reached out and broke my cigar under his nose. His eyes widened—then closed, as the instant sleeping gas from the crunched vial in the cigar drifted into his hairy nostrils. I took his badge, after all be had offered it to me, and turned aside as he dropped, lace first, into the sugar bowl.

  I kept turning, my rigid index finger extended, to catch his corpulent colleague just behind the jawbone with this deadly digit. There is a nerve ganglion there which, if hit in the

  The Stainless Steel Rat for President 3

  precise center, will produce instant unconsciousness. I did not miss. He folded nicely across his fat friend.

  I didn’t stay around to watch. “Twenty-two,” I called out to Angelina as I started for the kitchen door. Before I reached it two more policemen stepped through. And the main entrance was blocked by survivors of the original four.

  “Trapped!” I shouted aloud, then touched the sonic screamer in my belt buckle. A number of the diners screamed in response as the vibrations produced feelings of terror. Nice. In the confusion I would escape through the fire exit hidden behind the drapes.

  Except this door wasn’t the only thing the drapes concealed. Two more policemen blocked my way. “This was getting annoying. I leapt onto a long banquet table and neatly danced my way down its length, avoiding all the crockery with a fine precision that belies my years. More screams and shouts followed this exhibition until I reached the end—and

  spun about with my back to the window.

  I was trapped. Every exit was blocked, and the minions of the law were advancing.

  “It’s not that easy!” I shouted. “Better cops than you have tried to capture Slippery Jim diGriz! All have failed. Better a —clean death than sordid captivity!”

  Behind the attacking hordes I could see my sweet Angelina blowing me a farewell kiss. I gave her a last wave as I tensed