The Stainless Steel Rat Goes to Hell

Chapter 21

I drew back instantly. Surely he could hear the bass drum of my heartbeat echoing loudly in that quiet corridor. Had he seen me? I waited one second, two—and there was no sound of pursuing footsteps.

I started back as silently as I had come—just as the following footsteps sounded behind me. All I could do was run. Trying to stay ahead of the plodding sound. If he went a bit faster, or if I went slower, he would be far enoItgh around the curve in the tunnel to see me. Or if I made a sound. Or—there were too many ors.

There were the stairs ahead of me, where! had come down. Should I try to climb them? No, they went straight up and weren't curved like the tunnel. I would still be climbing them when he came to their base. Onward ever onward. I passed them. Solid concrete steps leading up out of the tunnel. With a dark recess under them.

I took the chance, jumped and pressed myself against the wall under the steps Tried to slow down my breathing, which sounded in my ears like a porcuswine in heat. Slakey's footsteps came closer. Was he passing by the stairs? If he did he would discover me. And no matter how fast I attacked and rendered him unconscious, he would have seen me and every other Slakey would know at the same time that I was here.

That would be the end.

Slap, slap, the sound of his footsteps came closer. Sounded different, closer—then dying away. He was going up the stairs.

When the last clack—clack had dimmed and vanished I let myself slump down to sit against the wall. And put my shoes back on.

Jim, I said silently to myself, Ida hope you enjoyed your little reccy. You were that close to ending the whole thing.

Then I waited, a good long time. I waited far longer than I thought necessary, then I waited some more. By the time I did move my bottom was numb from the hard floor. Creaking, I stealthily climbed the steps. I twisted my head about so much that I quickly got an even sorer neck. Back through the large lab and out the door. Unseen as far as I could tell. Down the corridor and into the storeroom.

Jumped back in fright at the horrible growling sound.

Relaxed and closed the door behind me as Berkk emitted another gargling snore. My toe lightly planted in his ribs brought him around.

"Snoring on duty is punishable by death," I said.

He nodded glum agreement. "Sorry. Meant to stay awake. Thought I could. Didn't. What did you find?"

"Food and drink for openers. That got your attention, didn't it? Look at you—up on your feet, nostrils flaring, snoring forgotten. After I lead you to it I'll tell you what else I found."

We didn't linger in the food hall. In and out and back as fast as we could in case Slakey had a touch of appetite.

"It could have ended in disaster just as easily," I said, licking a last crumb from my fingers. "Maybe it was that luck you wished me. If so—thanks."

"Don't mention it. We're alive, full of food and drink, safe for a moment—and we even know our way around a bit. And we are out of the rock works at last. A good beginning."

"Indeed." I ticked the points off on my fingers. "It is a rocky road that we have taken—but we're still on the move. First, we got away from the rock—digging works along with a lot more rocks. Second, we find that our rock is being ground to dust in an underground rock—grinding mill." I touched another finger. "Third, after the rock is ground it is moved through a pipe to the place where we are now hiding. And we are still underground. The circular tunnel I found at the foot of the stairs has been dug, drilled and plastered with great effort. And fitted out with some pretty complex machines. For what reason I do not know. Can you think of anything it might be used for?"

"Not a clue. But what I do know is that we are still not out of the woods. Or the tunnels."

"Quite right. We can rest a bit, eat a bit—but that is not going to solve our problem. Sooner or later we are going to have to move on. It stands to reason that the ground—up rock is going someplace for some important reason. Slakey has gone to an awful lot of trouble and expense to get it this far. I'm willing to bet that it eventually ends up in that place with the tables and the women I told you about."

"Yes. Where you were just before you came through to the rock works."

I thought about that hard. "I went from the tables to the stairs that led up to the room that opens into the rock works. But you went from a different planet right to the room." He nodded agreement. "Which means that the interuniversal transmitter leads from that room. But—" My head was beginning to ache but I pressed on. "But I entered the table place by falling down a hole in Heaven…"

Sudden realization sizzled and burned in my brain and I leapt to my feet with the strength of it. "Think about it. We both went through the transmitter to the room that opens on the frozen planet where the opencast mine is. Then we dropped into the pit with the crushed rock. We undoubtedly went through another transmitter. To Heaven! Maybe we are underground on Heaven right now—and the entire complicated operation is completed here."

"Think!" I ordered. "If we are in Heaven—then we are at the heart of the Slakey operation. Everything begins here and ends here. Whatever he has been up to, whatever he is spending all those billions of credits on is right around us." I stabbed a finger upwards. "There, on the surface, is Heaven. And Professor Coypu of the Special Corps knows how to get there!"

"Great. But what good is that going to do us now?"

I slumped back to the floor, deeply depressed. "None, really. We're still in deep doodoo and still trying to find a way out."

He looked worried. "Are we? If what you figured out is correct then all we have to do is go on. Follow the ground rock to this place with the tables that you talked about. You came in there—so there might still be a way out. We just follow the rock dust."

"It's not that simple." "Why not?"

Why not indeed? We couldn't go back—so we had to press on. It was the only chance we had.

"You're right—we'll go on in the same direction."

"Now?"

I thought about that for a bit. "Slakey is awake and wandering around. But he might not be alone. And there is always a chance someone will come into this storeroom. It's taking a chance whatever we do."

"Aren't you tired?"

I thought about it, then shook my head. "In fact I'm jumping with caffeine. Not in the least tired. So let's get moving."

We did, Scurrying like mice through the rooms ahead. More mysterious machinery—and a hopeful sign. Berkk pointed and I nodded agreement. A thick pipe had emerged from some complicated apparatus and was rumbling on nicely overhead. Through a large opening in the wall and into a room beyond. Not really a room, more of a cavern carved from solid rock. It was dimly lit by feeble lights, the concrete floor pitted and dusty. But the pipe was still there, no longer suspended from the ceiling but running along the floor now.

"It's still rumbling," Berkk said, putting his hand against it. "Vibrating. Something is surely going through it."

Which was fine. The only thing• wrong was that the pipe went straight ahead and vanished into the roughly carved wall. A very solid—looking rock wall with no openings in it.

"No door," Berkk said.

"There has to be a door!"

"Why?" he asked with repulsively simple logic.

Why indeed? Just because we had been able to follow the pipe this far didn't mean it was always going to be easy:

"Think!" I said, thinking very' hard. "That black rock was dug up with great labor. Dumped down here where, with even more labor, it was ground to dust. In those rooms or in the tunnel back there something was done to that dust, it was processed somehow, something added or subtracted or who knows what. Then the stuff keeps moving on to… where?"

"To the place you told me about, with the robot and the women and everything. There has to be some way of getting there, though it do sift have be anywhere near the pipe."

"You're right, of course, good man. We look and we find. But which way first?"

"Left," he said with positive assurance. "When I was a Boy Sprout we always started to march—"

"With your left foot. So we go left."

We did. With no results whatsoever. The lights behind us grew dim and distant. We moved in almost complete blackness, feeling our way along the rough stone wall. Which resulted in nothing more than sore fingertips. We came to a corner, then an endless time later to another one. Then as dim tights appeared we saw that there, right ahead of us, was the pipe again. We had worked our way around three sides of the rock chamber to the place where we had come in.

"Maybe we should have gone right," Berkk said brightly. This did not deserve an answer.

Back to where the pipe ended. But we turned right this time and went on into the darkness, Berkk first, running abraded fingertips along the stone.

"Ouch!" he said.

"Why ouch?"

"Because I cracked my knuckles on what feels like a door frame."

We traced the outline with our hands and it not only felt like a door frame but it was one. With a very familiar wheel in the middle of it. It was not easy to turn, but between us we managed to get it moving a bit; metal squealed and grated inside.

"Long time… between openings," I grunted; "Keep it going."

With a final squawk of protest the locking bolt was free and the door swung away. We looked into a small room, feebly lit by green glowing plates on the wall. This was more than enough light for our darkness—adjusted eyes to see another door on the far wall. With a handle.

"And a combination lock!" Berkk said, reaching out.

"Stop!" I said, slapping his hand away. "Let me look at it before we try anything."

I blinked at the thing, trying to make out the details in the feeble light, moved my head from side to side.

"I can just about make out the numbers," I said. "It is an antique drum lock that was old when I was young. I know this lock."

"Can you open it?"

"Very possibly. Possibly not since there are no tumblers to drop that I could listen for. But—there is one long chance. To lock this lock it must be turned from the last number that is set in when you open it. Many people forget to do that."

I did not add that most people did not forget most of the time. The thought was too depressing. And we couldn't go back. I needed some luck again—a very lot was riding on this. My fingers were damp and I rubbed them on my shirt. Reached out and grabbed the handle and pulled.

The door didn't budge.

But the handle rattled a bit in my hand. Did it turn? I tried.

And it did. The lock had not been locked after all.

I pulled the door open a bit and put my eye to the crack.