The Stainless Steel Rat's Revenge

He hurried away and I followed heavily after him. This was going to be easier than I thought. Three white-faced ratings looked up from the guts of the generator when we came in.

"Get them out of here," I said and did not have to repeat myself.

I looked at the open generator and nodded sagely as if I had any idea what the repairs were about. Then I began a slow tour of the engine room, tapping dials and squinting into observation ports while the engineer trotted after me. When I reached the warpdrive generator I looked at the nameplate covered with incomprehensible numbers, then turned to the engineer.

"Why is this model being used?"

I have never seen an engineer yet who didn't have something to say about every piece of equipment under his care and this one was no different.

"We know it is the older model, sir, but the replacement didn't arrive in time to install and balance before the flight."

"Bring me the tech manual."

As soon as his back was tuned I squeezed the handle of my case and the bomb dropped into my hand. I set the delay for forty minutes, armed it, and activated the sticky molecules on the base. Then I bent down and pushed it up under the thick housing of the warpdrive generator where it could not be seen. I was examining another piece of equipment by the time the engineer returned with the manual. A quick flip through the pages and a grunt or two over the identification numbers satisfied him, and I handed it back. I felt ashamed because the job was so easy.

"See that the work is done quickly," I said as I left, specifying nothing, but receiving in return his fervent assurances that it would be so.

I repeated this maneuver at the next spacer, parking my car in the shadows near it. Just about the time I realized that there was something familiar about the ship, Otrov came down the gangway and turned to face me.

This sudden confrontation startled me as much as it did him. But his eyes bulged and he stopped dead while I, being deep in the Kraj role, only stared coldly at him. Would be recognize me? I had bunked with him and drunk with him during my Vaska Hulja days, and I had piloted this ship. The Kraj disguise was good—but could it be expected to stand up to this close an examination by someone who knew me so well?

"Well?" I whispered finally, when he showed no intention of moving or speaking or doing anything other than stare.

"I'm sorry, sir, you surprised me. I didn't expect to see you here, if you know what I mean." He began to sweat and I stayed silent. "Your voice," he said finally. "Is there anything wrong?"

Of course there was. I knew I couldn't make my voice sound like the real Kraj's to someone who had talked with him recently as Otrov had. I also knew that one whisper sounds very much like any other whisper. But I wasn't telling him that.

"A wound," I husked. "After all there is a war on—and some of us are Fighting it."

"Yes, of course, I understand."

He jittered back and forth from one foot to the other and I had enough of this and pushed on by. But he called after me and I turned with cold impatience to face him again.

"I'm sorry to bother you. I was just wondering if you have heard anything about the whereabouts of Vaska…"

"That is not his name. He is a spy. You aren't trying to become familiar with a spy are you?" Otrov flushed red, but went on.

"No, of course not, spy, that's what he is. But we were friends once, he wasn't a bad sort then. I was just inquiring."

"I'll do the inquiring, you do the piloting."

I turned after these appropriately Krajian words and stamped into the ship. Otrov had surprised me standing up to Kraj like that. Somewhere inside his alcoholic hide there was a human being struggling for release.

This bomb was as easy to plant as the first one had been and I set it to go off at roughly the same time. Working fast now I drove quickly from ship to ship and managed to plant seven more bombs before the first one went boom. I was in engine room number nine when the alarm sounded.

"What is that?" I asked, hearing the distant moan of sirens.

"I have no idea," the elderly engineer said, and pointed back to the engines. "These liner tubes, second rate and shoddy and I can't get replacements…"

"I'm no supply officer," I snarled, suddenly very much in a hurry. "Go find out what the trouble is."

As soon as he left I slipped the bomb into place, set it for three minutes and followed him out.

"What is it?" I asked, meeting him at the top of the gangway.

"An explosion in one of the ships, in the engine room."

"Where? I must look into this!"