“I am Professor Lustig of the University of Ellenbogen, where I hold the chair of applied socioeconomics. I am head of my department and I must say that I founded the department, since applied socioeconomics is a fairly new discipline, an outgrowth, obviously, of theoretical SOCIOI, economics...” I biinked rapidly to keep my eyes from glazing over and forced myself to keep listening. It was teachers like Lustig who made me run away from school.

“...years of correspondence and labor to attain our fondest ambition. Practical application of our theories. Dealing with the bureaucrats of the League was the most difficult because of the League non-intervention policy. In the end they were convinced that with the proper controls we be permitted to operate a pilot project here on Spiovente. Or as someone said with crude humor, we certainly couldn’t make things worse. We keep our operation at the current level of planetary technology so it will be self-sustaining when we leave. “ “What exactly are you trying to do?” I asked.

He biinked rapidly. “That should be obvious-that is the only thing I have been talking about.” “You have been telling me theory, professor. Would you mind being specific about what you hope to accomplish.” “If you insist, on layman’s terms, we are attempting to do no less than change the very fabric of society itself. We intend to bring this planet, kicking and screaming ifnecessary, out of the dark ages. After the Breakdown Spiovente sank into a rather repulsive form of feudalism. More warlordism, in fact. Normally a feudalistic society performs a great service during an age of disintegration. It maintains a general framework of government as various localities protect and care for themselves.” “I haven’t seen much caring or protecting.” “Correct. Which is why these warlords will have to go.” “I’ll help shoot a few.” “Violence is not our way! In addition to being distasteful, it is forbidden to League members. Our aim is to bring into existence government independent of the capos. In order to do that we are encouraging the rise of a, professional class. This will bring about increased circulation of money and the end of barter. With increased funds the government will be able to institute taxation to purchase public services. To reinforce this a judiciary will need to be formed. This will encourage communication, centralization, and the growth of common ideas.” Sounded great-although I wasn’t wild about the taxes bit, or the judiciary. Still, anything would be better than the capos.

“That all sounds fine in theory,” I said. “But how do you put it into practice?” “By providing better services at a lower price. Which is why the Black Monk~ tried to attack us. They are no more religious than my hat-the order is just a front for their monopoly of technology. We are breaking that monopoly and they don’t like it.” “Very good. Yours sounds a fine plan and I wish you the best of luck. But I have a few things to do myself before I leave this sinkhole. To help you in your task of breaking the technological monopoly I would like to purchase some of your sleeping gas. “ “Impossible. In fact it is impossible for us to aid you in any way. Nor are you leaving here. I’ve signalled for the guards. You will be held until the next League ship arrives. You know far too much about our operation to be permitted your freedom.”

Even as this unacceptable bit of information was sinking into my brain, my body was launched across the desk. He should have remembered the bit about the Black Belt. My thumbs bit deep and he slumped. Even before his head bounced off the desk I had bounced off the floor and dived for the door. And none too soon-as I pushed the locking bolt home I saw that the handle above it was starting to turn.

“Now Jim, move fast,” I advised myself, “before the alarm is spread. But first let me see what this two-faced academic has in his possession that may be of use.” There were files, papers, and books in the desk, nothing that would be of any value to me now. I sprayed it all about me on the floor as the banging started on the door. I didn’t have much time. Next the prof. I tore his cloak open and ransacked his pockets. There was even less of interest here-other than a ring of keys. I shoved them into my own pocket; they would have to do for loot. Seizing up the gun I dived for the window just as something heavy hit the door with a shuddering thud. Two stories up and the courtyard below was paved with evillooking cobblestones. I would break my legs if I jumped. I leaned out and was grateful for the second-rate Spiovente masons. There were large gaps between the stones of the outer wall. The door crashed and splintered as I climbed out of the window, thrust the gun through my belt in the small of my back-and began to climb down.

It was easy enough. I jumped the last bit, did a shoulder roll, which jammed the gun painfully into my spine, 190 A STAINI. KSS STEKL RAT IS BORN 1Q1 retrieved it, and stumbled around the comer of the building before anyone appeared in the window above. I was free!

Or was I? Instant gloom descended. Free in the middle of the enemy keep with all men’s hands turned against me. Some big free.

“Yes, free!” I ground my teeth together arrogantly, braced my shoulders, and put a bold swagger into my walk. “Free as only a Stainless Steel Rat can be free! Just press on, Jim-and see if you can’t find some locks to go with those keys in your pocket.” I always get the best advice from myself. I marched on through an archway that led into the large courtyard. There were armed men lolling about here and they completely ignored me. That wouldn’t last long. As soon as the alarm was raised they would all be after my hide. Eyes straight ahead I walked towards a massive building on the far side. It had a single large gate set into the wall, with a smaller one next to it. As I came closer I saw that both had very modern locks set into them. Very informative. I was most interested in what was locked away here. Now all I had to do was find the right key.

Trying to look as though I belonged here I stopped before the smaller door and flipped through the keys. There must have been twenty of them. But the lock was a Bolger, that was obvious to my trained eye, so I fingered through them, looking for the familiar diamond shape. “Hey, you, what you doing there?” He was a big thug, dirty and unshaven and red of eye, He also had a long dagger thrust through his belt, the hilt of which he was tapping with his fingers.

“Unlocking this door, obviously,” was my firm response. “Are you the one they sent to help me? Here, take this.” I handed him my gun. This bought me a number of seconds as he looked at the weapon, enough time for me to push one key into the lock. It didn’t turn.

“No one sent me,” he said, examining the gun, which distracted him nicely for a few seconds more. I couldn’t be doing anything wrong if I had given him my only weapon, could I? I could almost see him thinking, slowly, moving his lips as he did. I interrupted the turgid flow of his thoughts.

“Well, since you are here you can help me...” Ahh, the next key did the job, turning sweetly. The door opened and I turned about just as sweetly with my fingers pointed to jab. I caught the gun as he slid to the ground.

“Hey, you, stop!” I ignored this rude command since I had not the slightest desire to see who was calling, but slipped through the door instead and slammed ithshut behind me. Turned and looked around and felt a sharp pang of despair. There was no hope here. I was in an enormous chamber, badly lit by slits high in the wall. It was a garage for the steam cars. Five of them, lined up in a neat row.

It would be fine to escape in one of these, really wonderful. I had watched them in operation. First the fire had to be lit, then wood pushed in, steam raised. This usually took at least an hour. At that point, say, I could manage to do all this undisturbed, I h~d to open the door and clank to freedom at a slow walking pace. No way!