The Stainless Steel Rat Sings the Blues by Harry Harrison

“They fled. We found it in their skyship. I touched it, unclean, unclean.”

“You’re doing fine.” I shook half of the coins into his waiting hand. “Now the ten-thousand-fedha question. Where is it now?”

“Sold, sold to them. The Paradisians. May they be cursed by it, cursed forever . . .”

It wasn’t easy, but we finally worked all the details out of him. Stripped of all the curses and blasphemy it was a simple tale of larceny and chicanery. The spacer had landed-and been attacked as soon as the door had been opened. During the fracas the Fundamentaloids had trundled through the ship and grabbed everything portable, including the container with the alien artifact. They had carried the whole thing away with them because they had a job opening it. When they eventually succeeded they could not understand what it was. And ignorance meant fear. So they had unloaded it in the market in Paradise where almost anything could be sold. End of story.

We let the shepherd keep the money when we lowered him, unconscious, to the ground. “This calls for consultation,” I said.

“Yes, but not this close to the flock. Let’s get up to the plateau where the air is fresher.”

The others were awake when we landed this time, listening closely to what we had discovered.

“Well this narrows the field a bit,” Madonette said.

“Does it?” I asked. “How big is the population of this paradisaical nation?”

“Around one hundred thousand,” Tremearne admitted. “It may not be the best society on this planet but it appears to be the most successful one. I know very little about it, just photographs and observation.”

“Doesn’t anyone in the Pentagon know more?”

“Probably. But the information is classified and they aren’t talking.”

I cracked my knuckles, scowled and jabbed my finger at him. “That’s really not good enough-is it?”

Tremearne looked as unhappy as I did. “No, Jim, it is not. I don’t know why all that information is classified while your group is actually operating here on the planet. I have tried to get the information and have been not only rebuffed but warned off.”

“Who is doing this? Any idea?”

“None-other than that it is at the very highest level. The people I have been in contact with understand your problems and want to help. But any requests that they pass on are turned down instantly and with prejudice.”

“Am I paranoid-or is there someone in the chain of command who doesn’t like this operation? Who wants it to fail?”

It was Tremearne’s turn now to crack his knuckles and look glum.

“I’ve told you-I am a career officer. But I’m not fond of the situation here on this planet. Not only the way your group is being treated, but the whole ugly business. Well, I feel that it is getting away from me. At first I thought I could get some reform here by working through channels. It’s not good enough. I am being blocked just as completely as you are.

“Who-and why?”

“I don’t know. But I am doing my best to find out. About this city and the Paradisians I guess, basically, I know absolutely nothing.”

“An honest answer, Captain, and I thank you for it.”

“If you don’t know-why then we’ll just have to find out for ourselves,” Steengo said. “Play a gig or two and keep our eyes open.

“May it be so easy,” I muttered under my breath. “Roll out the maps.”

It looked as though the largest part of the population was located in the single straggling city. Roads led from it to not-too-distant villages and there were scatterings of other buildings that might be farms. The only really puzzling thing about the 3D map was what looked like a wall that appeared to cut the city in two. There were no walls around the city, just this single one in the middle. I pointed to it.

“Any idea what this is-or what it means?”

Tremearne shook his head. “No idea. Looks like a wall, that’s all. But there is a road alongside it. Which appears to be the only road leading in from the plain.”

I poked my finger into the holomap.

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