The Rim Rebels

by Zellmann, William

  The Rim Rebels

  Zellmann, William

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  About The Author . . .

  THE RIM REBELS

  By

  William Zellmann

  Text Copyright 2012 William Zellmann

  All rights Reserved

  FREE SYSTEMS ALLIANCE: Name given to a group of some 340 systems, of which 186 have inhabited planets, occupying the outer part of a spiral arm to the Galactic East of the Empire. Originally part of the Empire, the Free Systems Alliance became independent in 3428 A.E., and remains the only multi-system government not part of the Empire. In contrast to the centralized Emperor/Council of the Empire, the Alliance of Free Systems is governed by a Congress consisting of one representative from each inhabited system, a President elected by the Congress, and a cabinet appointed by the President. Since the member systems fiercely defend their own independence, the Alliance government itself is, by design, relatively weak, and the sessions of the Congress often chaotic and contentious.

  -Encyclopedia Galactica, 2473rd edition

  Prologue

  The pebble had been wandering the outer fringes of the Boondock system for millennia since being formed in the primordial protostar that became the system's primary. The chance of its course intersecting that of another material object was so slight as to be infinitesimal . . .

  The first hint of trouble came when the faint but steadily increasing vibration of the reaction drive generators stopped with no warning but a faint shudder. Even before several alarms went off simultaneously a moment later, Captain Jirik Jeffson of the independent trader Bonny Lass had jumped to his feet, staring around wildly. As the alarms sounded, he spun to the Engineering console, glaring at the red lights flashing there. The needle of the normal space acceleration gauge, which had only moments before begun to slowly lift from its peg, had fallen back to the zero mark, as had the output indicators for the reaction drive generators. He instinctively flicked the life support switch to "Emergency" just as the bridge lighting began to flicker, and jerked a nod as the indicator lights flared green and the associated gauges showed the emergency generators coming to life.

  He looked at the pressure indicators for Engineering, and noted that the pressure had fallen slightly, was still slowly falling. He touched the 'com switch. "Bran! You've got slight pressure loss, but it looks slow. A sticky patch should handle it! Are you all right?" Without waiting for an answer, he flipped the 'com switch to "shipwide," then set off for Engineering at a dead run. Seconds later he sighed with relief as Bran Fergson's voice came from all the speakers as he ran.

  "I'm OK, Captain." Bran's voice was strained, and sounded far away in the lowering air pressure. "We've been holed. The hole in the inner hull is about two centimeters in diameter. I'm putting a sticky patch on it now." Jirik made no reply except for breathless subvocal cursing at the size of the Lass.

  Ignoring the warning light above the airtight hatch to Engineering, he released the dogs securing it, and the heavy hatch flew open with a "whoosh" of equalizing pressure. Bran was just turning from the freshly installed patch when Jirik followed the hatch into the engineering compartment. He scanned Bran's tall, pudgy body, and when he saw no sign of injury his shoulders sagged with relief.

  Bran's round face split into a wide grin. "Sheol, Captain! Did you fly down here? I haven't even had time to see what's happened, yet!"

  Jirik grabbed onto his temper. "Huh! I knew that if I wanted to know what happened, I'd have to come down here myself, you oversized shlith!"

  Bran's grin faded as he climbed back onto the crate he'd been standing on, then turned, trying to estimate the path of whatever had holed them. "Deity!" he cried, "The generators!" He jumped down again, and began hurrying across the engine room. Jirik followed him, losing ground as Bran weaved through the maze of piping and machinery. By the time Jirik reached him, Bran was sandwiched between the masses of the two inertial drive generators, muttering to himself.

  Some of the damage wasn't hard to spot. On the nearest of the two huge generators a shiny gouge shone clearly. Ragged ends showed where wire and tubing had been cut by the intruder. Bran's attention, though, was focused on the other massive machine. Jirik craned to see over the first unit, and saw his finger poking at a two centimeter hole in the thirty-mil-thick casing. He didn't need Bran's grim expression to tell him they were in trouble.

  Bran straightened with a sigh. "We've got a problem, Captain. The port generator is beyond repair in space." He stared at the starboard generator. "I may be able to repair this one, if only the external systems are damaged." He shrugged. "Give me half a standard hour, and I'll know more."

  Jirik cursed. "Fix it, Bran. We're at the edge of the system. We'd have to call for a tow if we're to get to Boondock in less than a month, and Boondock doesn't have a space station, so they probably won't have tugs."

  Bran nodded. "I'll do my best, Captain," he replied soberly.

  "I know you will, Bran," Jirik replied, "And I know that if anyone can get us some boost, you can. Keep me posted." Without waiting for a reply, he turned and headed for the bridge.

  It wasn't a short trip. The Bonny Lass was a big ship. Well, maybe not by interstellar freighter standards, but she was the largest ship designed for actually landing on a planet. She was a DIN-class Combat Hauler, designed to resupply ground troops in the field. All her armaments had been removed when she was retired by the Alliance Navy, of course, but she still had the huge inertial drive generators that would let her ground and boost fully loaded; the really large freighters were orbit-to-orbit jobs, incapable of grounding even if they'd wanted to. Still, it was a long walk from Engineering on the bottom level, past the vast cargo holds, to the bridge. Jirik was puffing by the time he arrived.

  Valt Willem was at the Astrogation station, as usual, and turned with an expression of mild interest as Jirik entered the bridge. Valt was only really interested in astrogation and sex. Anything outside those areas he left to others to handle. Valt was classically handsome, and his uniform knife-edged and tailored, as usual. Almost a hundred and ninety centimeters tall, Valt was nearly always the very picture of health. Somehow, despite the confined nature of starship travel, he managed to stay almost obsessively fit, and even to keep a bronzed tan. He was the only member of the crew that didn't settle for rumpled coveralls when in space.

  Tor Jankys, the other occupant of the bridge, however, was obviously jittery, and had evidently been pacing. His hands were clenching and unclenching. Tor was nearly as tall as Valt, standing some 185 centimeters tall, but there the similarity ended. Where Valt was graceful and lithe, Tor was bulky and brawny. His youthful face was square, and marred by an acne problem which he was fighting valiantly. Somehow, his clothes always seemed a size too small, his shoes a size too large. Even the weathered tan that farm life had given him was beginning to fade. But his features were strong and well-formed. His face was also suffused with a simple wholesomeness and lack of guile that inspired confidence. He displayed an enthusiasm and a sense of wonder that made the others feel jaded.

  Tor was the new kid, fresh off the farm. He'd just signed on at Corona, when the Lass' previous crewman and partner had signed off after a quarrel with Valt, and the authorities there had re
fused to let them lift without a Comm Officer. This was his first jump, and the alarms had evidently scared him silly.

  Jirik strode to the engineering console and shut off the alarms before turning to the others. The sudden silence seemed deafening. The kid crowded after him. "What is it, Captain? What's happened? Are we gonna die?"

  Even under the circumstances, the kid's last question made Jirik chuckle. "No, Tor," He replied, "We're not gonna die. We've been holed, probably by a small meteorite. There's no danger. Bran's patched the hole, temporarily. But we do have a problem. The damned thing, whatever it was, hit both our inertial drive generators." He cursed heatedly.

  Tor cut off his flow of profanity. "But, Captain! I thought we had shields to protect us from stuff like that?"

  Jirik sighed. "We do, Tor. But they're powered by the inertial drive generators. We don't need them in hyperspace. If that pebble had passed this point five seconds sooner, we wouldn't have emerged yet, and wouldn't really have been here for it to hit. If it'd hit two seconds later, when the inertial drive was fully on line, we'd have had shields. As it is, it hit us during the only few seconds when a starship is vulnerable. We'll know how much of a problem we have when Bran finishes surveying the damage. Meanwhile, try to relax. We're in no immediate danger."

  Valt merely half-smiled, and turned back to his astrogation station. Tor, though, was still excited. He paced back and forth until Jirik growled at him to sit down. He gave his Captain a look that reminded him of a puppy that's been kicked, but he returned to the comm station.

  Jirik began to survey the instruments at the engineering station. Both ID indicators were bright red, of course. Yellow lights indicated most of the other systems, including Life support. They were using the emergency system, since the main system would have been powered by the IDs. This was no problem, of course. The emergency system could maintain them for months. Actually, except for the fact that the food synthesizers would be able to produce only standard rations, and of course the fact that they were without their inertial drives, they were in good shape.

  "Valt," Jirik said into the oppressive silence, "See if you can find out where we are, where this planet, uh, Boondock is, and what we have to do to get there. As soon as Bran knows how badly we've been hurt, we'll have a meeting to find out where we stand." Valt nodded and turned back to his console.

  It took Bran a bit more than half a standard hour, but finally he was finished, and the crew gathered in the Wardroom for a meeting.

  "Okay," Jirik said for the benefit of the log recorder, "This is a shareholder's meeting to discuss the present situation. All shareholders present." He stifled a smile as Tor straightened in his chair and puffed out his chest, although technically he wasn't a full shareholder yet. Had he ever been that young? "Bran, how bad is it?"

  Bran's dour expression gave nothing away – Bran's expression was always dour. "All right," he began, "To start with, the port Inertial Drive generator is, I think, beyond repair; at least, it can't be repaired out here. The starboard generator's casing was scored, and it may be too weak to use. The external components were also hit by whatever it was. I might be able to jerry-rig something that can at least get us moving again if the casing isn't too weak, but it'll take anywhere from a few hours to a few weeks. It depends on the stores we have. We lost some air, of course, and the space between the inner and outer hulls is depressurized. "

  "How about cannibalizing the port generator for the external parts?" Jirik asked.

  Bran shrugged. "Some of them, maybe. But I'm worried about the starboard generator's casing. If it's been weakened too much, and it blew, well . . . "

  Valt shifted impatiently. "So we sit out here for a few weeks while you maybe get us going again? Are there other alternatives?"

  "Maybe," Jirik replied, "But not certainly. Before we get into that, what did you find out?"

  Valt got to his feet with a surly look. "We emerged from supralight at the edge of the system. We're even a bit out of the plane of the ecliptic. It was a textbook emergence, so don't try to blame me!"

  With an effort, Jirik smiled into Valt's glowering face. "Nobody's blaming you, Valt." He relaxed slightly, "There's no way you could predict a micrometeorite from twelve light years away. Or that it would hit us during the only few seconds during which it could damage us. But it happened, and we need to know how bad it is."

  Valt jerked his head in a mollified nod. "Well, as I said, we're on the edge of the system, five degrees out of the plane of the ecliptic. We emerged with almost no real velocity or orbit. For the few moments that the ID generators were on line, we gained some velocity, but unless we can get some acceleration, we won't approach the orbit of Boondock for about three months, and when we get there, Boondock will be on the other side of the sun." He glared at each of them, then sat down.

  Tor had been fidgeting as Valt spoke. As soon as Valt sat down, Tor raised his hand, like a kid in school. Jirik saw Bran hide a smile as he said, "You don't have to raise your hand here, Tor. What is it?"

  The kid flushed. "Well, I don't understand something. How could we emerge with almost no velocity? I mean, we were going faster than light, right? We didn't just stop, did we?"

  "Aw, C'mon," Valt protested. "Give the kid a book and let's get on with the meeting!"

  "Tor's entitled to an explanation," Jirik replied. "If we have to hire a tow, it'll come out of his profits too, you know!" He nodded. "Go ahead, Bran."

  Bran shrugged. "How much do you know about our propulsion systems, Tor?"

  "Well," Tor admitted, "Not much. I know we have two separate systems, but I don't understand why."

  Bran nodded. "You're right, of course. We do have two separate systems, one for intersystem travel, and one for intrasystem travel. You probably learned about the Inertial Drive in school. Its invention was one of man's greatest accomplishments. The ID made it possible for us to use constant boost to get around in a system. Before that, you computed a ballistic orbit, boosted as little as possible to get into that orbit, then shut down the engines and coasted! It took months and even years to get around in a system. The ID made interstellar trade practical. But, like most real breakthroughs, it's basically pretty simple. I've got a pop-level book I can lend you, if you're really interested."

  He sighed. "On the other hand, the Jump Drive made interstellar trade possible. There may be a dozen theoretical physicists in the Empire and the Alliance who understand it well enough to try to explain it, but they could only do it in mathematics. Our language is designed for a Newtonian universe. Whatever continuum it is that the Jump Drive uses, it isn't Newtonian! Our thought processes and logic just can't cope with the lack of human logic. The guy that originally discovered the thing must've had a really weird mind!"

  Jirik chuckled. "A few years ago I made up my mind to learn to understand jump theory. After about two years, I gave up. When someone asks me how the jump works, I just grin and tell them, 'Magic'!"

  Bran grinned. "That's just as accurate as terms like 'supralight'."

  Tor looked puzzled. "I thought 'supralight' meant 'faster than light'."

  Bran's grin widened. "A popular belief, thank all the odd gods of the galaxy! If people believe that, they somehow think they understand it, and stop asking uncomfortable questions. Of course, physicists go into a tizzy when you equate supralight and FTL. It seems that they think they own the term 'faster than light', and that it describes a very specific theoretical concept. When the jump drive was first designed, it touched off a battle that went on for years. Finally, the spacers agreed to use the made-up word 'supralight', and the physicists agreed not to assign that term any other meaning." He shrugged. "Actually, I understand that the term translates as 'above light'."

  "To get back to your original question, though, Tor," Bran continued, "About why we don't have velocity when we emerge from supralight." He shrugged. "I might as well use the Captain's word – 'magic'. Jump violates the law of conservation of energy. I can't tell you what happens
to energy and inertia built up before a jump; but somehow we always emerge with no real velocity. Valt," He asked, "Do you know of any recent research that can answer that question?"

  Valt shook his head. "No. There isn't a lot of research into Jump theory. It's been known to land researchers in asylums. Now, can we get on with the meeting?"

  Jirik looked inquiringly at Tor, who nodded, though he still looked a bit puzzled. Jirik suppressed a grin. Discussions of jump theory tended to have that effect on people. "All right," He began, "Let me summarize Bran's and Valt's reports, and state the basic problem. One. The port ID generator is beyond repair, at least without a shipyard. Two. The starboard generator might be usable, if the score in the casing isn't too deep. We can't use the jump engines within a system, of course. If we try to use the starboard generator, and it is too thin, we and the Lass become a rapidly-expanding ball of hot gases. Three. Our other choice is to call for help. This 'Boondock' is a mining planet. Its three moons are just big rocks, so there's no lunar station, no orbital station, and no shuttles. And, the rim tramps that they use for ships out here don't have much in the way of tractor beams. I doubt they could tow the Lass."

  He took a deep breath. "That means that we have to hope for an asteroid miner willing to come out here and tow us in. I'd hate to do that. It can get very expensive!"

  "Bran," Valt interrupted, "Can't you just weld up the gouge until we get to the planet?

  Bran shook his head. "No, Valt. It wouldn't help. Shipyards use machines that bond the metals on the molecular level. All I could do would be fusion weld it. I could fill in the gouge, but it wouldn't add significantly to the strength of the casing – at least, not considering the stress on an ID generator!"

  "So the options are to risk our lives trying to light off the ID, or yell for help," Valt summarized. "I vote to call for help. I have no interest in becoming part of a – what did you call it – 'rapidly-expanding ball of hot gases'!"