A Stainless Steel Rat Is Born

"I am normally not a vindictive man," he said, turning away and digging out his Pallet. He handed it to the officer and said, "But just this once I wanted to express my feelings before returning to my normal peaceful self. You understand, of course, why I did that?" "Would have done the same thing myself," the officer said, counting the money. "But the games are over. Don't ever speak to me again or you are dead." He turned away as another man appeared from the darkness with two black metal loops in his hands. The Bishop stood, numb and unresisting, as the man bent and snapped one onto his ankle. I didn't know what the thing was-but I didn't like it. Mine would not be put on that easily.

Yes it would. The muzzle of the gun ground into my back and I made no protest as the thing was snapped into place. The thing-snapper then stood up and looked me in the face, standing so close that his sewer breath washed over me. He was ugly to boot, with a puckered scar that added no improvement to the face. He pushed a sharp finger into my chest as he spoke.

"I am Tars Tukas, servant of our lord the mighty Capo Doccia. But you never call me by name; you always call me master." I started to call him something, something that was quite an improvement on master, when he pressed a button a metal box slung from his belt.

Then I was on the ground, trying to shake the red fog of pain from my eyes. The first thing I saw was The Bishop lying before me, groaning in agony. I helped him to his feet; Tars lukas needn't have done that, not to a man his age. He was grinning a lopsided scarred grin when I turned.

"Who am I?" he asked. I resisted all temptation, for The Bishop's sake if not my own. "Master." "Don't forget, and don't try to run away. There are neural repeaters right around the entire country. If I leave this on for long enough, all your nerves stop working. Forever. Understood?" . "Understood, master." "Hand over everything you got on you." I did. Money, papers, coins, keys, watch, the works. He frisked me roughly and seemed satisfied for the moment. "Let's move." A tropical dawn had come quickly and the lights were being turned out. We didn't look back as we followed our new master. The Bishop was having difficulty in walking and I had to help him. Tars Tukas led us to a battered wooden cart that was standing close by. We were waved into the back. We sat on the plank seat and watched while crates were lowered from the cargo hatch of the spacer.

"That was a nice droplock on the captain," I said. "You obviously know something about his planet that I don't. What was the name?" "Spiovente." He spat the word like a curse. "The millstone around the League's neck. That captain has sold us down the river with a vengeance. And he is a smuggler too. There is a complete embargo on contact with this stinking world. Particularly weapons-which I am sure those cases are full of. Spiovente!" Which didn't really tell me very much other than that it was pretty bad. Which I knew already. "You couldn't possibly be a bit more informative about this millstone?" "I blame myself completely for getting you involved in all this. But Captain Garth will pay. If we do nothing else, Jim, we will bring him to justice. We'll get word to the League, somehow." The somehow depressed him even more and he dropped his head wearily onto his hands. I sat in silence, waiting for him to speak in his own good time. He did finally,. sitting up, and in the reflected light I saw that the spark was back in his eye.