"05 - The SSR for President" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

32 The Stainless Steel Rat for President

equip ourselves and return and I'm sure that I will think of something." "Shall we invade them? Get a mercenary army together?" "Something a little more subtle is in order. We'll bore from within, as a stainless steel rat should. And I already have

some ideas how we are going to do that!"
Needless to say, the twins were delighted by the idea. James was leading a zoological expedition to capture poisonous specimens on the fog-shrouded, horror-planet Veniola that creeps in its orbit around the ghoulish star Hernia. As soon as word reached him he caged his last specimen and headed home at full blast. He arrived just a little ahead of Bolivar who had been doing research into prison reform. He had been imprisoned in the escape-proof prison on Helior, from which he instantly escaped when my message was smuggled to him. Young appetites always need nourishment, so I waited patiently as they consumed one of their mother's excellent nine-course meals before they joined me in my study. "There is something about you different. Dad," James said.
"Very observant, brother," Bolivar said. "Seeing as how

our dad now has dark skin, black hair and moustache, dark eyes, a new jaw and different cheekbones." "And also speaks a new language," I said in perfect Espanol.
"Sounds nice," James said. "Easy to understand, a little like Esperanto."
"By morning you will have splitting headaches and be speaking it yourselves. A few hours with the language indoctrinator will jam it into your skulls."
"Then what? Thanks Morn," Bolivar said added as Angelina brought a tray with filled wine glasses into the room.
"Then we are off to Paraiso-Aqui where they ferment this fine wine." We all sipped and smacked our lips with pleasure. "The name of this world means Paradise Here, and we will

see if we can't make that name come true at last." "How?" Angelina asked, and not for the first time.
"I'll think of something when we are on the spot. Meanwhile I have made plans to return there in style. If you will look at that . . ."
I pressed the button that rolled up the wall, revealing the adjoining workshop. A large and rather battered touring car

was revealed.
"Doesn't look like much," the ever-truthful Bolivar said. "Thank you. That was my intent. It is an exact duplicate of

The Stainless Steel Rat for President 33

a car I photographed on Paraiso-Aqui. Resembling the original in every detail . . ."
"But containing a number of details the original never contained!" James said.
"Smart lad. Careful! Don't press any buttons or switch any switches until I have explained how they work. The real vehicles like this on Paraiso-Aqui are powered by something called an infernal combustion engine. It is unbelievably complicated and inefficient. Good sugar cane is wasted to make ethyl alcohol, instead of being used sensibly to produce ron, which is then poured into one end of the engine. Water

vapor and poisonous gas come out of the other. Horrible. Therefore our car is powered by a small atomic engine. This also energizes the lasers built into the headlights, powers the gun positions, works the radar to aim the mortars. You know the sort of things."
"We certainly do!" Angeli'na said, smiling happily. "What is the next step?"
"Final preparations. In two days we will all be rested and refreshed, darker of skin and hair, and speaking Espanol with

a native fluency. A Special Corps spacer, with all of the latest electronic detection and avoidance gear, will pick up us and

our car and transfer us to Paraiso-Aqui. They will leave us there, alone and defenseless . . ." "Hardly!" Bolivar said.
". . . thousands of light-years from the nearest friendly planet. Four lost souls against an entire world. Four friendless people pitted against the might of a planet-wide dictatorship. I feel sorry for them . . ." "Do you mean the dictatorship, not us?" Angelina asked.
"Of course! The wine then. We drink to their downfall and the beeinnine of a new life for Paraiso-Aaui."


Even I, hardened by a thousand battles and even more close calls, had to admit that I experienced a sudden stab of the old angst when I watched the Corps battle cruiser lift up silently into the night. It is one thing to sit in your own home, glass in hand, and brag about how great you are. It is quite another thing altogether to be dumped on an inhospitable planet with all your loved ones and every man's hand turned against you. Were we doomed? If so I was responsible. "Well Dad . . ." Bolivar said.
". . . the fun's about to begin!" James added, finishing his twin's sentence for him. They laughed together and slapped

me on the back, which staggered me a bit and also dragged me out of my fit of depression. We could do it! We would do it!
"You're absolutely right, boys. Here we go!" James opened the rear door of the touring car for his mother, while Bolivar, decked out in chauffeur's uniform, climbed into the front seat and started the engine. It was a cloudless night and the starlight was bright enough for us to

see our way. I joined Angelina while James climbed into the front seat beside his brother. He wore the white suit and black string tie of a minor functionary. While Angelina and I

were dressed in the finery of the wealthy, copied faithfully from photographs taken from the guide books. Bolivar put on dark glasses, kicked the car into gear, and we shot off into the darkness.
Of course his glasses were sensitive to ultraviolet. And the headlights, while apparently turned off, were nevertheless radiating great beams of ultraviolet light. It was disconcerting, yet strangely exciting, to hurtle through the night like this.
"The ground here is hard stone all the way. Dad," Bolivar said. "Just the way you planned. We'll leave no tracks, just in