The Stainless Steel Rat for President

Chapter 19

We sat on the balcony in the glorious morning sunlight, the ruins of our breakfast whisked away by silent servants, sipping a last bit of coffee to hold everything down. It was Angelina, ever practical, who finally touched her lips daintily with her napkin and got down to work.

"While you were away I took the opportunity of going through the marquez's library. One of his predecessors had the hobby of collecting universities. There must be nearly a thousand of them."

This is not an ordinary hobby, and might even be called an eccentric one. Though it is certainly easy enough to do if you have the money. Not that a university itself costs that much; one of them will fit on a solid-state disc that you can hold on the palm of your hand. It shouldn't cost more than a bottle of rum. The expense comes in traveling about the galaxy, to all of the out-of-the-way planets, to root around in secondhand memory shops and find any old universities that they might have.

"I went through all the university libraries and crossreferenced everything that I could find cataloged on illicit elections and dirty politics. There were plenty of listings, but all of the books I dipped into just complained about this sort of nastiness and how to prevent it without going into details."

"Most unsatisfactory."

"Indeed. Until I ran this incredibly ancient university. The chip was cracked and gray with age, the name of the school itself illegible. It was so old it might actually have come from Earth. In any case the library was almost intact, and in it I found the book that we will use as our bible. I did a printout of it." She took a heavy sheaf of typescript from the floor, and passed it over to me.

"How to Win Elections," I read. "Subtitled, Or How to Vote the Cemetery, by Seamus O'Neill. What can that subtitle possibly mean?"

"Read on. It is a technique that we will be using soon ourselves, where every name from every tombstone is entered into the voting register." I read on as instructed—and my enthusiasm grew with every sentence.

"Joy!" I said. "Simply incredible. The man's a genius. You are a genius as well, my sweet, for discovering this. We cannot fail."

"Nor shall we. The boys have already begun preparations and we should be able to launch the campaign within a week. Barring unforseen accidents the election is as good as in the bag. And our biggest asset will be General-President Zapilote himself."

"You wouldn't care to explain that. Perhaps I'm being a little dense today…"

"He will aid us because of the way he has run his campaigns in the past. Since he controls all the media he has simply gone through the reflex of a campaign. Recorded speeches on television, sycophantic praise in the newspapers, and an overwhelming vote from the electronic polling booths which are rigged to give him ninety percent of the votes no matter how they are cast. "

"And that is going to help us?"

"Of course," she said sweetly, smiling indulgently at me as one would upon a moronic child. "We shall electronically usurp the television, print our own editions of the newspapers—and rig the polling booths on the side of righteousness."

Well you can't argue with anything like that. I could only nod in agreement, finish my coffee, then retire to the makeup box and put on my black Harapo beard. While I was doing this I did a speed read through O'Neill's book. It was a revelation. If he were alive today he would surely be elected galactic president; if there were no such title he would have to invent it. My previous reference book for political chicanery was The Education of a Prince by Mac O'Velly. But this was a nursery primer compared to O'Neill's masterpiece. When I was bearded and costumed for my Harapo role I summoned a consul of war. The campaign was about to begin. My family gathered around in eager anticipation, and only de Torres looked concerned about the future.

"This meeting is called to order." I announced. "As presidential candidate of the Nobles and Peasants and Workers Party, I intend to make a few appointments. Bolivar, you are secretary of the new party. So please fire up your recorder and take notes. James is rally organizer—which job I will explain in a moment. It is my hope that Angelina diGriz will accept the position of campaign manager, which position also includes the task of getting out the women's vote as well. Do you accept?" I counted the nodding heads and nodded in return. "Good. That appears to take care of the appointments."

"Not quite," de Torres said. "I have another and most important one to make, if I might?"

"Of course—you're the vice-presidential candidate. If I've missed something, please let me know."

He clapped his hands and the door opened. A slight and unassuming man entered and bowed slightly in our direction.

"This is Edwin Rodriguez," de Torres said. "He will be the presidential bodyguard and will accompany you everywhere. We must not have a repeat of the near-disaster that happened in Primoroso. Rodriguez will guard you, detect and eliminate assassins and generally look after your good health."

I looked the man up and down and tried not to smile. "Thank you, marquez. But while I appreciate the thought I can take care of myself. And I'm afraid this youth might get hurt…"

"Rodriquez," the marquez said. "An assassin at the window!"

My ears rang from the sound of the shots—and I realized that I was lying on the floor under the table and that Rodriguez was kneeling on my back. There was a sizeable and smoking revolver in his hand which was pointed at the window. Most of which had been blown away by the flurry of well-placed shots.

"The attack is over," de Torres said, and the weight was removed from my back. I stood and dusted off my trousers and regained my chair. The marqubz nodded approval. "Just a small demonstration. Rodriguez is my master-at-arms. I sent for him after he became planetary martial arts champion, as well as winning first place in the small arms competition. I have never regretted that decision."

"Nor will I," I said, looking at the now motionless form of my new protector. "I appreciate the thought. And I am pretty sure that he will have plenty to do once the campaign begins. Which will be within a few days. We must catch Zapilote off-balance and keep him that way. We will begin with an election rally."

"And just what is that?" de Torres asked.

"A form of religious revival meeting where speeches are made, babies kissed, free food and drink consumed by the potential voters. A mixture of carnival, worship and bribery. We will make promises, attack the present regime, and see to it that we have excellent press coverage."

The marquez shook his head. "It will be suicide. There will be guns, assassination attempts. Zapilote will not let us get away with it. I know the man. He is perfectly capable of dropping a tactical atom bomb on this rally to make sure he gets rid of us. He would take out an entire city to make sure he eliminated the competition."

I smiled and nodded. "I agree completely. Therefore we will not hold the rally in Primoroso, or Ciudad Aguilella or any of the other major cities. Instead we shall hold the first meeting in the small and undistinguished seaside resort of Puerto Azul."

"Why there?" The marquez was puzzled. Angelina caught on instantly and clapped her hands with pleasure.

"It will be held there because that little town is stuffed full of offplanet tourists. This will guarantee our protection since he cannot permit any of them to be hurt. Nor will he commit any violence in their presence. It is the perfect place for a rally. My husband is certainly using his brains." I nodded my thanks for the compliment, as well as for the fact that she had not added 'for a change'.

"How do we get there without being blown up on the way?" James asked. This was indeed a problem.

"A good question. Do we go by road or by air?"

"Air would be wisest," the marquez said. "Once past the Barrier, Zapilote's forces control the roads. We would have to fight our way through. But he has only a few fighter planes and no other air force to speak of. He has never needed one. He controls all the air traffic, owns all the aircraft, other than the few copters and transports that our people have."

"But he could mount an air attack?"

"It is conceivable. There are police gunships in addition to the fighters."

"We'll take precautions." I pointed at Bolivar. "Make a note to use the MES to amplify some weapon systems and early warning detection apparatus. If they do try anything funny we'll get them first."

"As good as done, Dad—I mean President."

"All right. The next order of business is a venue for the colligation…"

"You're not even a politician yet," Angelina said, "but you're talking like one already."

"Sorry. It must be catching. I mean, at what place will we hold the rally?"

"There is a large stadium in Puerto Azul," de Torres said. "That is where the bull fights are held every Sunday."

"Bull fights?" I asked. It sounded nasty.

"Yes. It is an interesting taurine event. It features mutated bulls wearing boxing gloves…"

"Sounds nice. We must go some time. But for the present we need the stadium for our rally. Which must be kept a secret until the last moment. Any suggestions?"

"Let Jorge arrange it," Angelina said. "He was a tourist guide there so he will know whom to contact. We'll book it in the name of a front organization, a folklorico display for the tourists or something like that."

"Perfect. Then we swoop down during the day, stay in one of the tourist hotels, make speeches on street corners, distribute free tickets to all the voters. And the campaign is launched. Any more suggestions? No? Then I declare this meeting closed and suggest we all repair to the garden for a drink before lunch."

"Champagne," the marquez announced firmly. "To toast a successful campaign. And to mark the end to this era of misrule."