The Stainless Steel Rat Sings the Blues by Harry Harrison

This was greeted by cries of enthusiasm and we replied with nods, grins and handshakes over our heads. When the shouts had died away old Rusty boomed out what they all wanted to hear.

“It is our hope that you will now – play for us!” More shouts. “What a pleasure to hear live our favorite favorite `Nothing’s Too Bad For the Enemy.’ But while you are setting up we will broadcast a recording to warm up our nation-wide audience, to prepare them for your first live performance.”

Which was not a bad idea since, although we could get going fast, their TV technicians were another thing altogether, Very much on the antique side. They dragged in arm-thick Cables, antique-looking, homemade cameras and lights and other gear that belonged in a museum. While this was happening a screen dropped down from the ceiling and lit up with lively color when the back projector came on.

The recorded program did not have what might be called the galaxy’s most inspiring opening. About a thousand suntanned bodybuilders drove heavy stakes into the ground with sledgehammers, backed by the thud of a beating drum. The drum died away but the hammers kept hammering silently as the voice-over spoke.

“Gentlemen of Paradise-we now bring you the special occasion that was announced a few minutes ago. I know that all of you, right across the land, are riveted to your sets. I think that we are going to get a hundred-percent rating on this one! So while The Stainless Steel Rats are warming up for their first ever live performance here, we are privileged to play for you their special version of-`The Spaceship Way’!”

And it really was special. We watched ourselves attacking the song with our usual gusto, listened once again to those lovely lyrics . . .

Working on the engines, in the engine room,

Wirin’ and firm’ an’ waitin’ for the boom.

When the cannons blast like the sound of doom,

You know you’re a-sweatin’ in the engine room.

Captain on the bridge his fingers on the triggers

All the guns loaded by the spaceship riggers.

Swoopin’ on the enemy, million miles an hour

Callin’ to the engine room for power, power, power.

Power, Power, Power make the electrons whirl,

Power, Power, Power-hear them protons swirl!

Power, Power, Power will win the day

Power, Power, Power, that’s the SPACESHIP WAY.’

We nodded and smiled with fixed grins. Good-quality picture, good sound as well. The audience was looking at the screen instead of at us for the moment. Floyd looked at me, then raised his extended index finger to the side of his head and rotated it in a quick little circle. The universal hand signal for insanity. I nodded glum agreement. I couldn’t understand it either.

There we were on the screen playing on a familiar set, wearing our regular concert costumes. Only one thing was wrong.

Until this moment none of us had ever seen the tenor who was right there with us, singing the song.

Tenor?

It had always been sung in sensuous contralto by Madonette.

CHAPTER 14

After the TV intro we played our number, pretty mechanically I must say. Not that our audience noticed, they were too carried away simply by being in the Presence. They swayed and waved their hands in the air and fought to keep silent. But when Iron John joined us in the “Power” chorus they cheered and howled and sang right along with him. When the last power had been overpowered they broke into lusty shouted applause that went on for a long, long time. Iron John smiled beneficently at this and finally stopped it with a raised russet finger. There was instant silence.

“I join you in your enthusiasm for our honored guests. But we must give them time to rest after their strenuous day. We will surely hear them sing for us again. You must remember they are with us now forever. It is their rare privilege to be admitted to Paradise as full citizens, to live until the end of time in our fair land.”

More cries of masculine joy. We concealed our overwhelming pleasure at this life sentence and kept our silence as we packed up our instruments and handed them to the waiting servants. Our audience moved out, still throbbing slightly with musical passion.

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