The Stainless Steel Rat Joins the Circus

Chapter 6

It was sure going to be a hot time on the old town tonight. I found this out when I passed the security station for the Colosseo, which was close to our dressing room. The rows of screens caught my eye; I stopped and looked in. On the screens I could see that floodlights illuminated the plaza before the entrance doors. There was a lot of action there and good things were beginning to happen. Chauffeurs opened doors and saluted. Well-dressed couples emerged from vehicles of all kinds. Transportation that flew, rolled on wheels-or tracks-and in one case an ungainly contraption that actually hopped. There was respectable money out there: I should have realized that. So far all that we had seen of Fetorr was the dirty underbelly of this industrial world. Mines, smelters, factories, grime. But all of this meant serious credit accounts for the lucky few on top. Good old Capitalism red in tooth and fang; little for the many at the bottom, plenty for the few at the top.

All thought of economic ambiguities vanished when I returned to our dressing room, where Angelina was examining herself in the full-length mirror.

"The green outfit!" I cried aloud. "Perfect, gorgeous, incredible-I must kiss this goddess of charm."

An upraised palm halted me in my passionate plunge.

"Later. I've been half an hour getting this theatrical makeup on and I am not going to let you smear it now."

"Can I smear it later?"

A very negative sniff was about all I deserved for this nottoo-snappy rejoinder. I realized now that her eye shadow was shadowier than usual. Her eyebrows arched high, black and intense; ruddy patches glowed on each cheek. "Get your makeup on now, Jim, just as I showed you."

"I will, I will." Seating myself at the mirror, I rubbed on a layer of foundation. A motion caught my eye, and I saw the imaged form of Gloriana settling into her basket.

"Has she been any trouble?" I asked.

"Quite the opposite. Very good-tempered, until some drunken lout tried to get in through the door. She's faster than I am. Had his trouser legs in shreds in an instant and him yiping back down the corridor. As a small reward she had a cheese sandwich with black truffles, and a bowl of milk, and is now having a rest. I wore the green outfit because it goes so well with red quills."

We had time to wait, because our gig ended the program, the last one before the first interval. But enthusiasm gripped us so much that we went up to the stage and looked out through the peephole in the main curtain. The seats and boxes were filling up; looked like a full house. Then we had to step aside as Puissanto's heavy gear was dragged into place. His was the opening act.

"Get into the wings," Harley Davidson ordered us, just as the band blared out a brassy fanfare. He pushed through the curtains and was greeted by enthusiastic clapping.

"Ladies and gentlemen, and peons-welcome to Bolshoi's Big Top." This provoked even more ecstatic applause, particularly from the workers in the highest balcony, separated from their betters by strong wire mesh. The ringmaster waited until the clapping had stopped.

"The finest acts in the galaxy are now yours to enjoy. Put your cares behind you and allow yourself to enjoy the finest entertainment that the galaxy can provide. Tonight you will be amazed by the mysterious magic of the Mighty Marvell. You will marvel at the multivaried life-forms of Gar Goyle and his astonishing troop of monstrosities. They are matched in outstanding attraction only by the sinuous beauty of Belissima and her Bouncing Ballerinas."

This drew not only applause, but shrill whistles from the upper reaches of the audience.

"To open this evening's performance of the daring, the dynamic and the death-defying, I give you the man of titanium, the strongest man in this galaxy and any other galaxy, the unstoppable, the unforgettable, the unbelievable-Puissanto!"

The ringmaster stepped aside as the curtains opened and there was the strongman, oiled and sleek, bulging of muscles and undoubtedly reeking of testosterone. Where Angelina and I stood in the wings we had a fine view of his act-and fine it undoubtedly was.

"High-carbon steel," Ringmaster Davidson said, as Puissanto clanged a finger-thick, meter-long bar of steel on the anvil before him. He then held it by the ends, knelt and placed it across his knee. There were oohs and aahs from the audience as he tensed his muscles, his shirt splitting open with the effort, and bent the steel across his thigh. Everyone liked that-liked it better when he opened his mouth and chomped down hard on the steel.

And bit it in two.

"You will notice before you-"the ringmaster said when the shouting died down, "-that the jolly brickworkers who have just come on stage will now be plying their trade while Puissanto continues to amuse you."

Silence from the gentry in the audience below, but hearty oaths and shouted insults and advice to their comrades on stage from the workers above. Puissanto continued with his feats of strength while the workers on the stage sloshed cement on bricks, slammed them into place, and began to build a wall. It 69 was as high as their heads when another fanfare blared and the ringmaster stepped forward.

"Solid brick and mortar-you saw it built. A strong brick wall, or at least it will be when the mortar has set. But we will not wait for that. The machine you now see coming forward, used only in the most hazardous conditions, will set this wall before your very eyes."

There were screams and gasps as a tongue of flame flared out. The machine's operator, wearing a protective suit, played the flame up and down the wall. When it was fried to his satisfaction two heavies carrying sledgehammers came forward and, accompanied by the anvil chorus from the orchestra, swung the sledges and tried to bring down the wall. It remained intact.

The laborers left, taking the machine and their tools with them; the ringmaster bowed his way out as well. The theater darkened and the spotlights picked out the solid figure of the strongman as he stalked forward to look at the wall. There was not a sound from the audience as he tapped it with his fist and smiled. Now it was just wall and man, lit up against a background of darkness.

He walked the width of the stage, turned back and stood poised. Snare drums rattled with excitement, growing louder in a rising crescendo of noise-crashed into silence.

Puissanto lowered his head, braced his arms-then ran swiftly at the wall. Bending double as he ran. Lowering his head.

At full speed crashing his bald skull into the brick wall.

Which shuddered, cracked-and fell to pieces.

Pandemonium all around as he wiped brick dust from his skull and bowed to the cheering crowd.

The audience loved him, and were still cheering and clapping after three curtain calls. He was going to have to do something more before they would quit. So he did. None of his familiar props this time.

"Puissanto hears you and understands your enthusiasm," the ringmaster said. "Therefore, for your continuing pleasure, he will perform a little encore."

Instead of returning behind the curtains, the strongman now went down the steps from the stage and into the audience. He shook a few hands-or rather let them try to shake his fingers, smiled happily while lovely women kissed him. Then he went back to the first row and bowed.

And while he was bowing he reached out and seized two seats, one in each hand, where they were bolted to the floor.

Then, with one concentrated contraction of his muscles he wrenched them from their moorings and held them on high.

Louder cheering if possible, and laughter at the man and woman in the seats, holding on to the chair arms and trying to smile. The curtains opened to a blare of trumpets. Holding the seated couple over his head Puissanto climbed back to the stage, turned and bowed to the audience.

Then proceeded to juggle the pair like giant dumbbells!

Up into the air they went in brief arcs. To be seized by those giant hands as they dropped. Grabbed and thrown aloft once more. Five times he performed this act of strength and coordination before he lowered them safely to the stage at last. The girl kissed him, the audience went wild. Harley Davidson, who was standing close by me, shouted aloud across the stage. But so wild was the audience that I was the only one who could hear him.

"You'll pay for those chairs, Puissanto! I'll take it out of your pay."

Stagehands removed the chairs while the strongman bowed one last bow and left.

When the shouting died down the music changed to a lugubrious funeral march, accompanied by shrill screams and manic laughter. All the house lights dimmed and died while the frenzied screaming grew louder. A single blue spot came on and there in its glow was a handsome tuxedo-garbed man who bowed to the audience and said, in a voice filled with menace, "Welcome-welcome to Gar Goyle's Interstellar Freak Show."

He stepped aside and a four-armed, green-skinned man took his place and bowed low. He was wearing a tartan kilt and sporran. He took a small white skull-with tiny hornsfrom his sporran and tossed it into the air. Then another until the air was filled with flying skulls, juggled in complex patterns by his four hands. It was most impressive and greatly enjoyed. Particularly when he launched the skulls, one by one, into the audience. The audience fought to catch them then, after examining them, ate them. Because they were made of candy.

"Greetings dear friends, greetings. I am here this evening to bring you a gaggle of ghastliness, a hemorrhage of horror, a dribble of disgust. Gathered from all corners of the galaxy for your edification and repulsion are the freaks of nature heretofore concealed from the eyes of the public. The misborn misfits, the monstrous mutations that you may heard about, perhaps dreamed about. But if you dreamed, ladies and gentlemen, your dreams were nightmares. Terrorizing riders of the night—like Snailman!"

The curtains snapped open and a harsh, bright spotlight burned down on the creature on the stage. There were gasps and cries from the audience. With good reason. He was bent and twisted, half-emerged from a spiked shell, recoiling into it away from the clamor of the audience. Then he sought to escape, crawling slowly across the stage leaving a trail of slime behind him. He came towards me, eyes bulging wildly, and I recoiled. Not human, a pseudoflesh robot I kept telling myself. Yet I was relieved when he turned and crawled in the opposite direction. Whoever had designed this creature had a very warped mind.

Next the audience cheered the bird girl, with stunted wings for arms, a horny bill instead of a mouth. Enjoyed it when she fluttered a few feet into the air.

There were more like this. The audience loved it; which told me a lot about the inhabitants of Fetorr. I found that a little repulsion went a long way. Still, I hoped that it would never stop. For every minute that passed drew me one minute closer. to my stage debut. Could I appeal to this audience? It was too late to put a little blood and slime into my routines. It would have to be magic, pure and simple.

I was barely aware of the acts that followed as I fussed with my props and shuffled cards from hand to hand. Angelina came up, leading Gloriana on a golden chain, and cocked her head when she looked at me.

"How do you feel? Your color is awful."

"First-night tremors. Do you realize this is the very first time we have performed the act in public? Despite all those pages of fake reviews."

"Jim diGriz-this is not like you. You have faced down large guns, small generals, giant animals, grasping tax men. You have never hesitated. Stop sweating, pull yourself together, drink a bit of this." She produced a flask of medicinal brandy. "And remember the motto of show business."

"It will be alright on the night," we intoned together and I took a good slug from the flask.

Then we were ready to go on, listening to the ringmaster's masterly introduction of fake facts.

"… dived from a thousand-meter-high tower into a small bathtub of water-and survived! Handcuffed, chained and locked into a steel safe and dropped into the ocean, struggled for hours to escape-and escape he did!"

Had I been mad to write this kind of nonsense for the fake reviews? My sins were coming back to haunt me.

"… so without further ado I bring you that master of magic, the supremo of sorcery, the wizard of witchcraft-the Mighty Marvell!"

Act cool and you are cool, Jim, I kept telling myself. Cool, cool. I walked to center stage and bowed-and almost lost it. Because just in front of me, in the center of the front row, was my son Believer, clapping like crazy. But he was supposed to be light-years away.

I couldn't speak. Luckily I did not have to. I turned and extended my arm, waved Angelina to make her entrance. Which she did most handsomely. Applause thundered. Either they loved porcuswine on golden chains-or they appreciated the fair Angelina as much as I did.

I could not say how the act went since I was possessed by a chill numbness as I performed. At least I didn't drop anything. And they oohed at the right places and laughed when I expected them to. Angelina handed me the props at the right time, screamed when I put her into the box and cut her in half, collected the slips of paper for the mind-reading act. Floated mysteriously in midair. Then suddenly she was before me, leading Gloriana and I knew we were ready for the vanishing act that closed our performance.

"Look on and admire," I called out. "Beauty and the beast. In the flesh and alive-for now. I beg you to be silent, because if anything goes wrong, one slip, one instant of inattention, and the results could be incredibly disastrous. There now, they enter the cage. Now the glorious Angelina will lock the ferocious porcuswine to the floor with heavy locks and chains. They are now in place. Are you ready? Yes you are. Now, the magic word, Monosodiumglutamate!"

The canopy dropped down, rose an instant later and they were gone. The audience roared with appreciation when they saw that the cage was empty. Woman and swine had vanished. The curtains closed and I stepped out for a few last bows. Bolivar threw a bouquet of flowers which I neatly fielded. With a small movement of my thumb I indicated backstage and he nodded.

He was in the dressing room before me, pecking the air next to his mother's cheek so he wouldn't smear her makeup. She made a neat curtsy when I presented her with the flowers.

"From Believer," I said.

"And from James, Sybil and Sybill. I promised to call them as soon as the act was over. It was really great. And that's a powerhouse porcuswine you have there." Gloriana snuffled agreement and let her back be scratched.

"Is it permitted to ask what you are doing here?" I asked.

"Working in a bank, of course. As soon as we knew that you were coming to this planet, James had his search engine digging deeper and deeper, building a data bank on Fetorr like you wouldn't believe. There are forty banks in this city alone."

"I believe it. Where there's crud there's credits."

"The bank here with the greatest reserves is the BankrottGeistesabwesed. Did you ever hear of it?"

"No. Should I? It is not a name that exactly trips off the tongue."

"We did some digging, and it wasn't easy, and eventually discovered that it belongs to an old friend of yours. One Imperetrix Von Kaiser-Czarski."

"Not Chaise?"

"None other. The Widows and Orphans 15` Interstellar Bank, the one he told you about, is owned by him as well. For some reason, best known to him, this one is supposed to be secret. So I sent him a message, telling him that we were helping with your investigation. Told him that I could help him a lot more if I were a teller in the branch of the Widows and Orphans bank here, to sort of be on the spot if anything happened. I thought he might have a certain influence that might get me appointed here."

"Did you get the job?" Angelina asked, always interested in her son's career.

"Not quite. He liked my new banking expertise so much that he made me manager instead."

"My son the bank manager!" Angelina said and smiled.

"Then that is something else we can celebrate tonight," I said just as a phone rang. He slipped it out of his pocket, listened, then hung up.

"Anything important?"

He nodded, a little grimly I thought.

"That was the night manager of the bank on the line. It seems that, just a few minutes ago, the bank was robbed."