The Stainless Steel Rat Sings the Blues by Harry Harrison

“Of course. Sorry about that, Floyd,” I said as I turned my head to face him. Winking with my left eye, the one our captor couldn’t see. “I know that you would come after me and help me if you could. But you can’t. So stay here and you will be safe. You have the word of James Fido diGriz on that.”

“I’ll be okay, Jim. Look after yourself.”

I only hoped that this mixture of innuendo, hints and suggestions had delivered my message to him. I could only cross mental fingers and hope. The door opened and there was a hiss, rumble and clank behind me as my bonds snapped open. I rubbed my stiff arms and stood up slowly and carefully. The Killerbot blinked baleful little orange eyes at me and waved a smoke-stained flamethrower in the direction of the door. I followed Commander Alphamega out, leaving Floyd prisoner in the chair. Not for long, I hoped, if Fido-Aida had understood my suggestions.

We walked side by side down the wide hall with its framed portraits of heroes. My companion smiled warmly in my direction. Pulling his gun a bit out of the holster at the same time, then letting it slide back.

“You do understand that if you breathe one word about our conversation you will be no more than a grease spot on the floor?”

“Completely aware, thank you. Absolute silence on that topic, yes, sir. I will look at the artifact and explain its operation. Nothing more.”

Maybe I was smiling on the outside-but I was pretty gloomy on the inside. Jim, you are getting yourself in deeper than a porcuswine in a mudhole. A depressing thought-and a true one. But I really had no choice.

It was quite a long walk and I was getting tired again. When all this was over-of it were ever over-I promised myself a nice long holiday. Head-up, Jim! Think positive and get ready to improvise.

A last door opened and we were in what was obviously a laboratory. Complete with control boards, power cables, bubbling retorts and aged scientists in white smocks. There was a lot of loyal fist-smacking on chests when the leader appeared. Salutes that he returned with the merest tap of his own loosely clenched fist. They moved respectfully back to give us access to a lab bench. On it, now sprouting wires and connections to the surrounding test gear, was the alien artifact. I clapped my brow and staggered.

“What are you cretins doing with the cagleator!” I shouted. “We are all dead if you have actuated it!”

“No, no-not that!” an ,elderly scientist cackled. Then shut up and looked fearfully at the Commander who sneered in return.

“You are all morons. Now tell this Outsider what you have done,”, he ordered. “He is the ,one who knows what the’ device can do.”

“Thank you, thank you! Of course, as you have ordered.”, The wrinkly turned back to. me with shaking hands and pointed a quavering finger. “We have only X-rayed the device and charted the circuitry. Very complex, as you know. There vas, however . . .” he began to sweat, looking about unhappily, “a reaction of some kind. when we attempted to test the circuitry.”

“A reaction? If you have made a mistake the world has just ended! Show me.”

“No, not a big. reaction. Just that it absorbed electricity from our test circuit. We were: not aware of this at first-and we instantly terminated the test when we saw what was happening.”

“And just what did you sees happening?” The Commander asked, voice like a file on rough steel.

“That, sir, we saw that. A cover of some kind fell away disclosing this recess. And .. the lights. That is all. just lights . . .”

Fascinated, we all leaned forward to look. Yes, there was the recess. And inside it there’ were four little blobs of light. Green, red, orange and white.

“What is the significance of this?” my inquisitor asked, fingers strumming on the gunbutt.

“Nothing important,” I sand, stifling a yawn at the unimportance of it all. “The test circuitry is simply testing the circuits of your test circuitry.”

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