Stainless Steel Rat 11: The Stainless Steel Rat Returns by Harry Harrison Read Free Book Online

guard sergeant’s snappy salute earned by much financial largesse.
    Once home I resolutely passed by the bar, entered my study and told the computer to turn on. Then tempered my prohibitionary resolution by getting a cold beer; that would have to do until I found a suitable planet.
    I sat, sipped, stared at the screen—and muttered a sibilant curse as the apparently endless names of possible planets scrolled down the screen.
    I wrote a quick filtering program to shorten the list. Climate, native population, form of government, average IQ of policemen, death penalty, proportion of incarcerated prisoners to general population, form of government, capitalization of the banking system—must always think of business opportunities—the usual things.
    Hours later I straightened up and sighed. The beer had gone flat, thousands of planets had been turned to electrons—only three survived. I yawned and stretched and went for a fresh beer. There was a note on the bar.
    “Didn’t want to disturb. See you in a.m. Good luck.”
    I blinked at the clock: well past midnight. I hadn’t even heard Angelina come in. I added a single whiskey to the beer, an ancient drink called a boilermaker for reasons lost in the immensity of time. I yawned again.
    My synapses sizzling with the stimulation, I went back to work. Two more planets fell. I hit a key and the lone survivor expanded to fill the screen.
    MECHANISTRIA
     
    As soon as I did this sweet music filled the air. When I had accessed the planetary website an expensive, powerfulmessage had punched right through my spam filters. An incredibly beautiful and underdressed girl smiled out of the screen and pointed a sweet finger in my direction.
    “I want you . . .” she breathed salaciously. “If you are a farmer, or employed in the agricultural or food supply trade, then Mechanistria could be your new home. Let me explain . . .”
    Music enthused, the girl faded to be replaced by smiling workers laboring at mighty machines as she explained in a lilting voice-over.
    “Our happy workers are joyful in their labors for they know that work will make them free. We build and export vehicles and machines of all kinds to many planets in the nearby star systems.”
    Fading shots of planes, cars, engines, pimple removers, elevators, goatmobiles, machines beyond number marched across the screen. This changed in an instant as the music clashed, the machines vanished to be replaced by workers sitting down for a meal, smiling as they forked up their chow—and then stopping in mid-bite. They then stared and overacted horror at the food on their plates as drums rolled—then stopped. They froze and a male voice, oozing with distaste spoke.
    “Yet we are being cheated, starved, taken advantage of. The planets who supply our food have joined together in a cabal of evil! They have raised their prices in unison and lowered the quality of their produce. To put it bluntly—we are being shafted! Our founding fathers were so busy building an enterprising planet that they neglected to provide self-sufficient planetary produce. But no more!”
    An exuberant voice-over of scenes of laughing, jolly farmers, happy farm beasts, smoked hams, ripening cropsand laden tables. “Our new policy is to encourage agriculturists of all kinds to come here to aid us in making ours a new and fruitful world! All expenses will be paid, as well as large bonuses, farm buildings, resettlement allowances, free medicare, free life insurances, cradle to grave . . .”
    There was more like this, but I had seen enough. This was it!
    In my enthusiasm I swallowed the rest of my drink too hastily and coughed until tears filled my eyes. Swept them away with the back of my hand and went to pour some Old Cough Killer.
    I was saved! I sipped my poisonous potion and radiated sheer happiness. I could hear little trotters thundering down the gangways into the shining future. Hypocritical good-byes, a few tears shed, hosing out the