The Stainless Steel Rat Sings the Blues by Harry Harrison

“Do you also know that he was economical with my health? And that in nineteen days I am going to keel over from time released poison.”

“Regrettably, I have been informed that that is the case. And you have eighteen days left now, You appear to have lost track of one day during the past period.”

“Eighteen? Thanks much. That only makes what I have to say even more imperative. I need some help, some transportation.”

“All contact with the planet is forbidden.”

“I just changed the rules. You yourself told me that you are heading a committee to bring about major improvements here. The first change will be to get one of the ship’s launches down here. With that I can get around to the various bands of sheot shaggers before my personal deadline runs out.”

“If 1 do that I will be disobeying orders and it could end my career.

“Well?”

The silence inside my head went on and on. I waited. Until I heard what could only have been a sigh.

“I suppose there are plenty of job opportunities for skilled civilians these days. The launch will land after dark. If it is not seen by anyone on the ground there is just a chance that my career change can be postponed.”

“You’re a good guy, Tremearne. My heartiest thanks.”

I hummed a bar or two from “The Swedish Monster” as I walked back to inform my companions.

“Jim, you’re wonderful!” Madonette said, grabbed and kissed me. “I much prefer flying to walking.”

Floyd nodded happy agreement and reached for me.

“Away!” I shouted. “Girls, okay, but I don’t kiss guys with beards. What we do now is put a little distance between us and those religious nuts in case they want to come back for seconds. Then rest up until dark. I have a feeling that it is going to be a very busy night.”

CHAPTER 11

“Wake up, Jim-it’s almost dark.”

Madonette’s gentle hand was most welcome, since it drew me up out of a really repulsive nightmare. Tentacles, bulging eyeballs, yukk. The eighteen-day dead deadline must be getting to my subconscious. I sat up, yawned and stretched. With great reluctance the sun had finally dropped behind the horizon leaving behind a slowly fading band of light. The stars were coming out revealing some pretty boring constellations and very few of them at that. This prison planet must be far out on the galactic rim.

Then something blotted out the stars in the zenith as a dark form drifted down to the ground, silently on null-gray drive. The door opened as we approached-and the cabin lights came on.

“Turn them off, lunkhead ! ” I shouted. “You want to ruin my night vision.” The pilot turned about in his seat and I grinned insincerely. “Sorry Captain, sir-that lunkhead, just a figure of speech.”

“My fault completely,” he said, and tapped one of his electronic eyeballs. “With these I forget. I’m piloting this thing because I have the best night vision in the fleet.”

He flipped the lights off and we groped our way aboard with just the dim red emergency lights to show us the way. I sat in the copilot’s seat and strapped in.

“What is your plan?” he asked.

“A simple one. You know the position of all the sheot hocks don’t you?”

“Observed and logged into the launch’s memory.”

“Great. Have the computer do a topological survey to plot a course that will let us visit them all in the shortest amount of time. We drift over to the first flock, find one of the shepherds who is maybe out of sight of the others-and talk to him. Show him the photograph and find out if he has seen the thing. If he hasn’t-on to the next bunch.”

“Seems a simple and practical plan. Belts fastened? Right, first flock coming up.”

We were slammed back into our seats and were on our way. High and fast on the plotted track. Then slow and drifting in low while Tremearne peered out into the darkness.

“There’s one,” he said. “On the far side of the flock-all by himself. Either to guard the beasts or keep them from wandering. I have a suggestion. I approach him from behind and immobilize him. Then you question him.”

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