The Return of The Stainless Steel Rat

The seconds ticked by and I had my thumb poised over the button of my breaking jets. The computer back in the shuttle was supposed to give me the signal to break - but as I said I was not trusting computers very much these days. Closer and closer, larger and larger the metal wall grew. And I knew I would splatter myself all over it in a few seconds more. Where was the signal? The computer had blown a fuse. I was good as dead! Yet if I braked too soon, I would miss the station completely and float out into space. I couldn't wait any longer...!

"Fire now," the emotionless voice of the computer said. It did not have to repeat itself. My thumb clamped down, clouds of gas billowed out and around me. I couldn't see a thing! The firing ended and the gas cleared - and there was the side of the satellite just ahead of me.

I hit, tumbled, bounced away again - and grabbed the antenna mast just before I vanished back into interstellar space. After that I just held on for a while, waiting for the air scrubber to evaporate the perspiration from my forehead - and from the misted up helmet in front of my eyes as well.

"You know, Jim," I said, ignoring the quaver in my voice. "You're getting a little too old for this kind of romp. Time to retire, some quiet little planet, rob a bank or two when you get bored. Leave this interstellar suicide to the kids."

But, even as I muttered to myself, I was hard at work. It's okay to bitch as long as you are doing something constructive at the same time. I hauled myself down from the pole and kicked off in a neat arc that ended over the emergency exit. Which was labelled, by some moronic civil servant no doubt, EMERGENCY EXIT. Fine for me, but of little use to anyone inside trying to find their way out. There was a large handle in the centre of the door labelled PULL. I did. It swung open neatly and I drifted into the airlock beyond. Entrance effected, troubles over.

Others might think that - but not me. I'm not called the Stainless Steel Rat for nothing. No sir. I know how to get through stainless steel walls and come out on the other side alive. Just ahead of me was an inviting, shining metal lever. Pull that once, the outer door would close, air would rush into the lock, and when the pressure was equalized the inner door would open. very simple. And very suspicious. Floating in the centre of the airlock, touching nothing, I opened the toolbag on my hip and took out a multimeter. I jammed one prod into the handle - then touched the other to the wall close by.

There was a colourful display of sparks and the readout displayed 25,000 volts. Very interesting. Mark 2500 was expecting me.

I put away the meter and extracted a thick pad of insulation. Electricity in this quantity should be treated with respect. I wrapped the pad around the handle and tugged. The door slowly opened. I waited until it gaped wide before triggering a blast on my suit rockets. A strong one. Because as soon as I was past the door I would be in the grip of the satellite's gravity field.

This shot me forward - and I began to drop as I came into the ship. But I hit the deck well away from the entrance and did a shoulder roll, coming up on my feet, fists clenched and ready for anything.

"Are you the new troubleshooter?" A voice said. I spun about to face a gloomy looking man dressed in a soiled boilersuit.

"No," I said, smiling warmly. "I am Santa and I'm here just in time for Christmas."

He just grunted at that, a serious type, his expression one of darkest gloom. He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

"They're waiting for you in the rec hall. Got a message you were coming. This way."

He turned and, almost as an afterthought, called back to me.

"My name's Corona. Tech fifth class."

"My pleasure," I said, but if he heard me he gave no answer. I was really beginning to feel welcome. I peeled off the spacesuit and trotted after him.

Things were much better in the rec hall. There were about a dozen people waiting there and they all burst out clapping when I entered.

"You're welcome indeed," I said inclining my head in a courtly manner. "As you have heard, I am here to save you." My voice hardened. "I would also like to know how you heard I was coming - since the kooky computer controls all of the radio circuits in this satellite."

A handsome woman with gorgeous red hair held up a portable radio.

"With this," she said. "If we put this in front of a viewport we can receive signals from the rescue ships out there. We just can't answer."

"You can now. I have a souped up transceiver with me. Might I ask your name?"

"Trina. Deputy Commander of the station."

"And where may I ask is the Commander?"

She looked at me and her nostrils widened.

"Didn't you do your homework? He was in the shuttle that crashed and started this whole mess."

"I know only what I am told." My nostrils flared to match hers. "Now would you mind introducing me to whoever is in charge now."