September 25, 2025 • 15 mins
Losing track of a battleship may seem careless, but in the vastness of interstellar space, it‚As a different story altogether. When a misplaced battleship falls into the wrong hands, the stakes become dangerously high. Join the world-class con man and thief known as the Stainless Steel Rat (diGriz) as he faces yet another monumental challenge in this captivating science fiction novella by the legendary Harry Harrison. With humor and intrigue, diGriz must not only locate the missing vessel but also navigate through a web of unexpected twists. After all, the adage use a thief to catch a thief can lead to some surprising outcomes! (Summary from the book and Phil Chenevert)
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Section three of The Misplaced Battleship by Harry Harrison. This
LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Section three. I
threw them as snappy a salute as I could muster,
and they filed out, staring gloomily at their backs. I
envied for one moment their simple faith in the league,
maybe when in reality the vengeful fleet was just as
(00:24):
imaginary as my admiral's rating. This was still a job
for the corps. Inskip would have to be given the
latest information at once. I had sent him a sigram
about the theft, but there was no answer as yet.
Maybe the identity of the thieves would stir some response
out of him. My message was in code, but it
(00:45):
could be quickly broken if some one wanted to try
hard enough. I took it to the message center myself.
The side man was in his transparent cubicle, and I
locked myself in with him. His eyes were unfocussed as
he spoke so softly into a mic, pulling in a
message from somewhere across the galaxy. Outside. The rushing transcribers
(01:07):
copied coded and filed messages, but no sound penetrated the
insulated wall. I waited until his attention clicked back into
the room and handed him the sheets of paper League
Central fourteen rush I told him. He raised his eyebrows
but didn't ask any questions. Establishing contact only took a
(01:30):
few seconds, as they had an entire battery of Simon
for their communications. He read the code words carefully, shaping
them with his mouth but not speaking aloud, the power
of his thoughts carrying across the light years of distance.
As soon as he was finished, I took back the sheet,
tore it up and pocketed the pieces. I had my
(01:51):
answer back quickly enough in skip must have been hovering
around waiting for my message. The mic was turned off
to the transcriber's out there side, and I took the
code groups down in short hand myself X y B
B d F I l F D N O and
if you don't, don't come back. The message broke in
(02:13):
to clear at the end, and a Simon smiled as
he spoke the words. I broke the point off my
stylus and growled at him not to repeat any of
this message, as it was classified and I would personally
see him shut if he did. That got rid of
the smile, but didn't make me feel any better. The
decoded message turned out not to be as bad as
(02:36):
I had imagined. Until further notice. I was in charge
of tracking and capturing the stolen battleship. I could call
on the League for any aid I needed. I would
keep my identity as an admiral for the rest of
the job. I was to keep him informed of progress.
Only those ominous last words and clear kept my happiness
(02:58):
from being complete. I had been handed my long awaited assignment,
but translated into simple terms, my orders were to get
the battleship or it would be my neck. Never a
word about my efforts in uncovering the plot in the
first place. This is a heartless world we live in.
(03:18):
This moment of self pity relaxed me, and I immediately
went to bed. Since my main job now was waiting,
I could wait just as well asleep, and waiting was
all I could do. Of course, there were secondary tasks,
such as ordering a naval cruiser for my own use
and digging for more information on the thieves, but these
(03:41):
really were secondary to my main purpose, which was waiting
for bad news. There was no place I could go
that would be better situated for the chase than Siranuvo.
The missing ship could have gone in any direction. With
each passing minute, the sphere of probable locations grew larger
by the power of the squared cube. I kept the
(04:04):
on watch crew of the cruiser at duty stations and
confined the rest within a one hundred yard radius of
the ship. There was little more information on Pepe and Angelina.
They had covered their tracks well. Their origin was unknown,
though the fact they both talked with a slight accent
suggested an off world origin. There was one dim picture
(04:27):
of Pepe, chubby but looking too grim to be a
happy fat boy. There was no picture of the girl.
I shuffled the meager findings, controlled my impatience, and kept
the ship's side man busy pulling in all reports of
any kind of trouble in space. The navigator and I
plotted their locations in his tank, comparing the positions in
(04:49):
relation to the growing sphere that enclosed all the possible
locations of the stolen ship. Some of the disasters and
apparent accidents hit inside this area, but further investigation proved
them all to have natural causes. I had left standing
orders that all reports falling inside the danger area were
(05:10):
to be brought to me at any time. The messenger
woke me from a deep sleep, turning on the light
and handing me the slip of paper. I blinked myself awake,
read the first two lines, and pressed the action station
alarm over my bunk. I'll say this, the navy boys
know their business. When the sirens screamed, the crew secured
(05:31):
ship and blasted off before I had finished reading the report.
As soon as my eyeballs unsquashed back into focus, I
read it through, then once more carefully. From the beginning
it looked like the one we had been waiting for.
There were no witnesses to the tragedy, but a number
of monitor stations had picked up the discharged static of
(05:54):
a large energy weapon being fired. Triangulation had led investigators
to the spot where they found a freighter August's Dream,
with a hole punched through it as big as a
railroad tunnel. The freighter's cargo of plutonium was gone. I
read Pepe in every line of the message. Since he
(06:15):
was flying an undermanned battleship, he had used it in
the most efficient way possible. If he attempted to negotiate
or threaten another ship, the element of chance would be introduced.
So he had simply roared up to the unsuspecting freighter
and blasted her with the monster guns. His battleship packed.
All eighteen men aboard had been killed instantly. The thieves
(06:40):
were now murderers. I was under pressure now to act,
and under a greater pressure not to make any mistakes.
Roly poly Pepe had shown himself to be a ruthless killer.
He knew what he wanted, then reached out and took it,
destroying anyone who stood in his way. More people would
(07:00):
die before this was over. It was up to me
to keep that number as small as possible. Ideally, I
should have rushed out the fleet with guns blazing and
dragged him to justice. Very nice, and I wished it
could be done that way, Except where was he A
battleship may be gigantic on some terms of reference, but
(07:22):
in the immensity of the galaxy it is microscopically infinitesimal.
As long as it stayed out of the regular lanes
of commerce and clear of detector stations and planets, it
would never be found. Then how could I find it, and,
having found it, catch it? When the infernal thing was
(07:43):
more than a match for any ship it might meet.
That was my problem. It had kept me awake nights
and talking to myself days. Since there was no easy answer,
I had to construct a solution slowly and carefully. Since
I couldn't be sure where Pepe was going to be next,
I had to make him go where I wanted him to.
(08:05):
There were some things in my favor. The most important
was the fact I had forced him to make his
play before he was absolutely ready. It wasn't chance that
he had left the same day I arrived on Sitanuvo.
Any plan as elaborate as his certainly included warning of
approaching danger. The drive on the battleship, as well as
(08:26):
controls and primary armament, had been installed weeks before I
showed up. Much of the subsidiary work remained to be
done when the ship had left. One witness of the
theft had graphically described the power lines and cables dangling
from the ship's locks when she lifted. My arrival had
forced Pepe off balance. Now I had to keep pushing
(08:50):
until he fell this ment. I had to think as
he did fall into his plan. Think ahead, then trap him.
Set a thief to catch a thief. A great theory,
only I felt uncomfortably on the spot when I tried
to put it into practice. A drink helped, as did
a cigar. Puffing on it. Staring at the smooth bulkhead
(09:11):
relaxed me a bit. After all, there aren't that many
things you can do with a battleship. You can't run
a big con, blow safes, or make BURMADEX with it.
It is hell on jets for space piracy. But that's
about all. Great great, But why a battleship? I was
talking to myself. Normally a bad sign, but right now
(09:34):
I didn't care. The mood of space piracy had seized me,
and I had been going along fine until this glaring
inconsistency jumped out and hit me square in the eye.
Why a battleship? Why all the trouble and years of
work to get a ship that two people could just
barely manage with a tenth of the effort. Pepe could
(09:58):
have had a cruiser that would have suited his purposes
just as well, just as good for space piracy, that is,
but not for his purposes. He had wanted a battleship,
and he had gotten himself a battleship. Which meant he
had more in mind than simple piracy. What it was
(10:18):
obvious that Pepe was a monomaniac, an ego maniac, and
as psychotic as a sharded computer. Some day the mystery
of how he had slipped through the screen of official
testing would have to be investigated. That wasn't my concern.
Now he still had to be caught. A plan was
beginning to take shape in my head, but I didn't
(10:41):
rush it first. I had to be sure that I
knew him well. Any man that can con an entire
world into building a battleship for him, then steal it
from them is not going to stop there. The ship
would need a crew, a base for refueling, and a mission.
Fuel had to be taken care of first. The gutted
(11:04):
hull of August's Dream was silent witness to that there
were countless planets that could be used as a base.
Getting a crew would be more difficult in these peaceful times,
although I could think of a few answers to that
one too. Raid the mental hospitals and jails do that
often enough, and you would have a crew that would
(11:25):
make any pirate chief proud. Though piracy was of course
too mean an ambition to ascribe to this boy. Did
he want to rule a whole planet, or maybe an
entire system or more. I shuddered a bit as the
thought hit me. Was there really anything that could stop
a plan like this once he got it rolling? During
(11:47):
the Kingly Wars, any number of types with a couple
of ships and less brains than Pepe had set up
just this kind of empire. They were all pulled down
to the end since their success depended on one man rule,
but the price that had to be paid first. This
was the plan, and I felt in my bones that
(12:07):
I was right. I might be wrong on some of
the minor details, they weren't important. I knew the general
outline of the idea, just as when I bumped into
a mark. I knew how much he could be taken
for and just how to do it. There are natural
laws in crime, as in every other field of human endeavor.
I knew this was it. Get the communications officer in
(12:31):
here at once, I shouted at the intercom. Also a
couple of clerks with transcribers, and fast. This is a
matter of life or death. This last had a hollow ring,
and I realized my enthusiasm had carried me out of character.
I buttoned my collar, straightened my ribbons, and squared my shoulders.
By the time they knocked on the door, I was
(12:53):
all admiral again. Acting on my orders. The ship dropped
out of warp drive, where Simon could get through to
the other operators. Captain Sting grumbled as we floated there
with the engines silent, wasting precious days while half his
crew was involved in getting out what appeared to be
insane instructions. My plan was beyond his understanding, which is
(13:19):
of course why he is a captain and I'm an admiral,
even a temporary one. Following my orders, the navigator again
constructed a sphere of speculation in his tank. The surface
of the sphere contacted all the star systems, a day's
flight ahead of the maximum flight of the stolen battleship.
(13:39):
There weren't too many of these at first, and the
Simon could handle them all, calling each in turn and
sending my news release to the naval public relations officers there.
As the sphere kept growing, he started to drop behind,
steadily losing ground. By this time I had a general
release prepared, along with directions for use and follow up.
(14:00):
Which he sent to Central fourteen. The battery of Simon
there contacted the individual planets, and all we had to
do was keep adding to the lists of planets. The
release and follow ups all harped on one theme. I
expanded on it, waxed, enthusiastic, condemned it, and worked it
into an interview. I wrote as many variations as I could,
(14:24):
so it could be slipped into as many different formats
as possible. In one form or another, I wanted the
basic information in every magazine, newspaper and journal inside that
expanding sphere. What in the devil does this nonsense mean?
Captain Staying asked peevishly. He had long since given up
(14:46):
the entire operation as a feudal one, and spent most
of the time in his cabin worrying about the effect
of it on his service record. Borna more curiosity had
driven him out, and he was reading one of my
rel with horror billionaire to found own world space shot
filled with luxuries to last one hundred years. The Captain's
(15:09):
face grew red as he flipped through the stack of notes.
What connection does this tripe have with catching those murderers?
End of Section three
Section three of The Misplaced Battleship by Harry Harrison. This
LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Section three. I
threw them as snappy a salute as I could muster,
and they filed out, staring gloomily at their backs. I
envied for one moment their simple faith in the league,
maybe when in reality the vengeful fleet was just as
(00:24):
imaginary as my admiral's rating. This was still a job
for the corps. Inskip would have to be given the
latest information at once. I had sent him a sigram
about the theft, but there was no answer as yet.
Maybe the identity of the thieves would stir some response
out of him. My message was in code, but it
(00:45):
could be quickly broken if some one wanted to try
hard enough. I took it to the message center myself.
The side man was in his transparent cubicle, and I
locked myself in with him. His eyes were unfocussed as
he spoke so softly into a mic, pulling in a
message from somewhere across the galaxy. Outside. The rushing transcribers
(01:07):
copied coded and filed messages, but no sound penetrated the
insulated wall. I waited until his attention clicked back into
the room and handed him the sheets of paper League
Central fourteen rush I told him. He raised his eyebrows
but didn't ask any questions. Establishing contact only took a
(01:30):
few seconds, as they had an entire battery of Simon
for their communications. He read the code words carefully, shaping
them with his mouth but not speaking aloud, the power
of his thoughts carrying across the light years of distance.
As soon as he was finished, I took back the sheet,
tore it up and pocketed the pieces. I had my
(01:51):
answer back quickly enough in skip must have been hovering
around waiting for my message. The mic was turned off
to the transcriber's out there side, and I took the
code groups down in short hand myself X y B
B d F I l F D N O and
if you don't, don't come back. The message broke in
(02:13):
to clear at the end, and a Simon smiled as
he spoke the words. I broke the point off my
stylus and growled at him not to repeat any of
this message, as it was classified and I would personally
see him shut if he did. That got rid of
the smile, but didn't make me feel any better. The
decoded message turned out not to be as bad as
(02:36):
I had imagined. Until further notice. I was in charge
of tracking and capturing the stolen battleship. I could call
on the League for any aid I needed. I would
keep my identity as an admiral for the rest of
the job. I was to keep him informed of progress.
Only those ominous last words and clear kept my happiness
(02:58):
from being complete. I had been handed my long awaited assignment,
but translated into simple terms, my orders were to get
the battleship or it would be my neck. Never a
word about my efforts in uncovering the plot in the
first place. This is a heartless world we live in.
(03:18):
This moment of self pity relaxed me, and I immediately
went to bed. Since my main job now was waiting,
I could wait just as well asleep, and waiting was
all I could do. Of course, there were secondary tasks,
such as ordering a naval cruiser for my own use
and digging for more information on the thieves, but these
(03:41):
really were secondary to my main purpose, which was waiting
for bad news. There was no place I could go
that would be better situated for the chase than Siranuvo.
The missing ship could have gone in any direction. With
each passing minute, the sphere of probable locations grew larger
by the power of the squared cube. I kept the
(04:04):
on watch crew of the cruiser at duty stations and
confined the rest within a one hundred yard radius of
the ship. There was little more information on Pepe and Angelina.
They had covered their tracks well. Their origin was unknown,
though the fact they both talked with a slight accent
suggested an off world origin. There was one dim picture
(04:27):
of Pepe, chubby but looking too grim to be a
happy fat boy. There was no picture of the girl.
I shuffled the meager findings, controlled my impatience, and kept
the ship's side man busy pulling in all reports of
any kind of trouble in space. The navigator and I
plotted their locations in his tank, comparing the positions in
(04:49):
relation to the growing sphere that enclosed all the possible
locations of the stolen ship. Some of the disasters and
apparent accidents hit inside this area, but further investigation proved
them all to have natural causes. I had left standing
orders that all reports falling inside the danger area were
(05:10):
to be brought to me at any time. The messenger
woke me from a deep sleep, turning on the light
and handing me the slip of paper. I blinked myself awake,
read the first two lines, and pressed the action station
alarm over my bunk. I'll say this, the navy boys
know their business. When the sirens screamed, the crew secured
(05:31):
ship and blasted off before I had finished reading the report.
As soon as my eyeballs unsquashed back into focus, I
read it through, then once more carefully. From the beginning
it looked like the one we had been waiting for.
There were no witnesses to the tragedy, but a number
of monitor stations had picked up the discharged static of
(05:54):
a large energy weapon being fired. Triangulation had led investigators
to the spot where they found a freighter August's Dream,
with a hole punched through it as big as a
railroad tunnel. The freighter's cargo of plutonium was gone. I
read Pepe in every line of the message. Since he
(06:15):
was flying an undermanned battleship, he had used it in
the most efficient way possible. If he attempted to negotiate
or threaten another ship, the element of chance would be introduced.
So he had simply roared up to the unsuspecting freighter
and blasted her with the monster guns. His battleship packed.
All eighteen men aboard had been killed instantly. The thieves
(06:40):
were now murderers. I was under pressure now to act,
and under a greater pressure not to make any mistakes.
Roly poly Pepe had shown himself to be a ruthless killer.
He knew what he wanted, then reached out and took it,
destroying anyone who stood in his way. More people would
(07:00):
die before this was over. It was up to me
to keep that number as small as possible. Ideally, I
should have rushed out the fleet with guns blazing and
dragged him to justice. Very nice, and I wished it
could be done that way, Except where was he A
battleship may be gigantic on some terms of reference, but
(07:22):
in the immensity of the galaxy it is microscopically infinitesimal.
As long as it stayed out of the regular lanes
of commerce and clear of detector stations and planets, it
would never be found. Then how could I find it, and,
having found it, catch it? When the infernal thing was
(07:43):
more than a match for any ship it might meet.
That was my problem. It had kept me awake nights
and talking to myself days. Since there was no easy answer,
I had to construct a solution slowly and carefully. Since
I couldn't be sure where Pepe was going to be next,
I had to make him go where I wanted him to.
(08:05):
There were some things in my favor. The most important
was the fact I had forced him to make his
play before he was absolutely ready. It wasn't chance that
he had left the same day I arrived on Sitanuvo.
Any plan as elaborate as his certainly included warning of
approaching danger. The drive on the battleship, as well as
(08:26):
controls and primary armament, had been installed weeks before I
showed up. Much of the subsidiary work remained to be
done when the ship had left. One witness of the
theft had graphically described the power lines and cables dangling
from the ship's locks when she lifted. My arrival had
forced Pepe off balance. Now I had to keep pushing
(08:50):
until he fell this ment. I had to think as
he did fall into his plan. Think ahead, then trap him.
Set a thief to catch a thief. A great theory,
only I felt uncomfortably on the spot when I tried
to put it into practice. A drink helped, as did
a cigar. Puffing on it. Staring at the smooth bulkhead
(09:11):
relaxed me a bit. After all, there aren't that many
things you can do with a battleship. You can't run
a big con, blow safes, or make BURMADEX with it.
It is hell on jets for space piracy. But that's
about all. Great great, But why a battleship? I was
talking to myself. Normally a bad sign, but right now
(09:34):
I didn't care. The mood of space piracy had seized me,
and I had been going along fine until this glaring
inconsistency jumped out and hit me square in the eye.
Why a battleship? Why all the trouble and years of
work to get a ship that two people could just
barely manage with a tenth of the effort. Pepe could
(09:58):
have had a cruiser that would have suited his purposes
just as well, just as good for space piracy, that is,
but not for his purposes. He had wanted a battleship,
and he had gotten himself a battleship. Which meant he
had more in mind than simple piracy. What it was
(10:18):
obvious that Pepe was a monomaniac, an ego maniac, and
as psychotic as a sharded computer. Some day the mystery
of how he had slipped through the screen of official
testing would have to be investigated. That wasn't my concern.
Now he still had to be caught. A plan was
beginning to take shape in my head, but I didn't
(10:41):
rush it first. I had to be sure that I
knew him well. Any man that can con an entire
world into building a battleship for him, then steal it
from them is not going to stop there. The ship
would need a crew, a base for refueling, and a mission.
Fuel had to be taken care of first. The gutted
(11:04):
hull of August's Dream was silent witness to that there
were countless planets that could be used as a base.
Getting a crew would be more difficult in these peaceful times,
although I could think of a few answers to that
one too. Raid the mental hospitals and jails do that
often enough, and you would have a crew that would
(11:25):
make any pirate chief proud. Though piracy was of course
too mean an ambition to ascribe to this boy. Did
he want to rule a whole planet, or maybe an
entire system or more. I shuddered a bit as the
thought hit me. Was there really anything that could stop
a plan like this once he got it rolling? During
(11:47):
the Kingly Wars, any number of types with a couple
of ships and less brains than Pepe had set up
just this kind of empire. They were all pulled down
to the end since their success depended on one man rule,
but the price that had to be paid first. This
was the plan, and I felt in my bones that
(12:07):
I was right. I might be wrong on some of
the minor details, they weren't important. I knew the general
outline of the idea, just as when I bumped into
a mark. I knew how much he could be taken
for and just how to do it. There are natural
laws in crime, as in every other field of human endeavor.
I knew this was it. Get the communications officer in
(12:31):
here at once, I shouted at the intercom. Also a
couple of clerks with transcribers, and fast. This is a
matter of life or death. This last had a hollow ring,
and I realized my enthusiasm had carried me out of character.
I buttoned my collar, straightened my ribbons, and squared my shoulders.
By the time they knocked on the door, I was
(12:53):
all admiral again. Acting on my orders. The ship dropped
out of warp drive, where Simon could get through to
the other operators. Captain Sting grumbled as we floated there
with the engines silent, wasting precious days while half his
crew was involved in getting out what appeared to be
insane instructions. My plan was beyond his understanding, which is
(13:19):
of course why he is a captain and I'm an admiral,
even a temporary one. Following my orders, the navigator again
constructed a sphere of speculation in his tank. The surface
of the sphere contacted all the star systems, a day's
flight ahead of the maximum flight of the stolen battleship.
(13:39):
There weren't too many of these at first, and the
Simon could handle them all, calling each in turn and
sending my news release to the naval public relations officers there.
As the sphere kept growing, he started to drop behind,
steadily losing ground. By this time I had a general
release prepared, along with directions for use and follow up.
(14:00):
Which he sent to Central fourteen. The battery of Simon
there contacted the individual planets, and all we had to
do was keep adding to the lists of planets. The
release and follow ups all harped on one theme. I
expanded on it, waxed, enthusiastic, condemned it, and worked it
into an interview. I wrote as many variations as I could,
(14:24):
so it could be slipped into as many different formats
as possible. In one form or another, I wanted the
basic information in every magazine, newspaper and journal inside that
expanding sphere. What in the devil does this nonsense mean?
Captain Staying asked peevishly. He had long since given up
(14:46):
the entire operation as a feudal one, and spent most
of the time in his cabin worrying about the effect
of it on his service record. Borna more curiosity had
driven him out, and he was reading one of my
rel with horror billionaire to found own world space shot
filled with luxuries to last one hundred years. The Captain's
(15:09):
face grew red as he flipped through the stack of notes.
What connection does this tripe have with catching those murderers?
End of Section three
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