The Rim Rebels

by Zellmann, William

  "Well," Tomys continued, "Dr. Atmos was a Historical Anthropologist who died about fifty years ago. He was Chairman of the Anthropology Department at Largos University on Priam, and specialized in ancient civilizations, mostly pre-Empire."

  "Hell," Jirik interrupted, "That means over 2000 years ago. Who the hell cares about that crap?"

  "Anthropologists, that's who," Tomys answered mildly, "You know, human civilization traces back more than 6000 years before the Empire. But, to get back to Dr. Atmos. Mostly he just puttered happily around amid the dust of history. But finally, he noticed some trends that he felt were cyclical. Now, historians and anthropologists have had cyclical theories of civilizations for millennia, but most of them confine themselves to the remote past, and don't relate them to the present. Dr. Atmos noted what he thought were parallels between these ancient cycles and current Empire and Alliance trends. Being a good scientist and a thorough researcher, he proceeded to develop a theory to account for what he saw, and then to seek evidence to support it."

  "After about ten years of research," Tomys continued, "Dr. Atmos published his findings, as most academics do. Millions of these scholarly works are published every year, all over the known universe." Tomys shrugged. "They usually disappear quietly into dusty university archives. Atmos, however, claimed that the historical trends that he researched were identifiable in present events. Among other things, he announced that the Empire had passed it's "Golden Age" some two hundred years ago, and since then has been in decline."

  Jirik snorted. "I spend a lot of time in the Empire, and I don't see any signs of it."

  "You wouldn't," Tomys replied. "In fact, Atmos says that it won't be apparent for another hundred years. But you might be interested to know that the earliest firm evidence that he cites is the Empire's 'release' of the Alliance a century ago."

  "Dreck!" Jirik growled. "I'm no historian, but even I know about Admiral Kedron and our fight for independence. They didn't 'release' us. We broke free!"

  "Calm down, Captain. I went to the same schools you did. I know all about our 'heroic revolution' – but I've also read all five volumes of Atmos, and even some Empire histories of the period. To tell you the truth, I'm no longer so sure. Neither are a lot of other knowledgeable people. Atmos could be right – and that's worrisome. If the Empire does disintegrate, there will be one hell of a lot of fallout. The government is worried that the Alliance might just get sucked down with the Empire, and the whole of human space could be reduced to barbarism."

  Chapter 2

  "But," Tomys continued, to forestall Jirik's obvious interruption, "That's not what I'm here about – not directly, anyway. Let me continue. As you can guess, Atmos' claims made quite a stir in the academic community. Even academics don't want to believe that their civilization is dying."

  Jirik fidgeted, eager to interrupt, but getting interested in Tomys' story. "Atmos was derided," Tomys continued, "And disgraced. Someone leaked Atmos' theory to the popular press, which rose up in self-righteous indignation. He became the butt of jokes sector-wide. There is some evidence that Empire Intelligence was involved in promoting the ridicule of the man and his theory. Possibly someone high up recognized the validity of Atmos' work, and feared that its general acceptance might accelerate the process. At any rate, Atmos was condemned, dismissed from his position, and exiled. Unfortunately," Tomys smiled grimly, "He was exiled to the Alliance. In an attempt to get as far from the scene of his humiliation as possible, Atmos finally ended up out here on the outer rim. On Boondock, as a matter of fact. He brought copies of his work with him, of course."

  Jirik could stand it no longer. "So what? What the hell could a disgraced professor and a five volume textbook do that needs a Class I Agent to straighten out?"

  Tomys' grim smile returned. Jirik was learning to hate that smile. "You are a man of action, Captain. I'm afraid that you fail to appreciate the use of ideas as weapons. All that Atmos actually did was to come to Boondock and begin selling books and offering courses. There was no university here then. In fact, Atmos founded what is now the University of the Rim."

  "The effect of what he did, however, was much more far reaching than his actions themselves. The man was not a villain. He was simply a dedicated scientist, a bit of an ivory-tower type. I doubt that he realized the implications of his research; to him it was simply interesting data."

  "Boondockers of the time were like frontiersmen everywhere, They were not well educated by inner world standards, but they had a great respect for learning, Dr. Atmos had outreached his disgrace. The people here hadn't heard that he was considered a crackpot. His academic credentials were very impressive, especially to a people whose best-educated members held degrees from small border universities in the Alliance. As a result, Atmos had no problem finding students. Besides, reading was the major form of recreation on Boondock. This is typical of frontier societies, particularly those where conditions are harsh. Though at the time few could afford any luxuries at all, reading matter was likely to be the first luxury bought. People hungrily devoured almost anything readable, since reading materials were scarce. Imported book discs were in extremely high demand."

  "Naturally, most of Atmos' luggage consisted of book discs, all from the Empire. To tide him over, he made and sold unlicenced copies of his library. He actually ended up quite a wealthy man from his efforts."

  "Naturally, all of his own published works were among the discs which he copied and sold. When he began teaching classes from his home, he was quite amazed to find that he was famous, and that he had to turn students away. Over a period of time, his classes resulted in the University of the Rim, but that wasn't the end of his effect on Rim politics."

  "You see, an entire planet of voracious readers had been exposed to his works and his theories. Inevitably, intersystem trade took copies of his works to the equally voracious readers of neighboring systems. Now, some seventy years later, we are faced with the result. Tell me, Captain, what do you think of Boondockers? I know you've only been here a week or so, but what are your first impressions?"

  Jirik's brow wrinkled with concentration. "My Engineer and I talked about this last night. They're friendly enough. Actually, I kinda like 'em. The only thing is," he continued, "They're so damned self-righteous and smug. They act like they have the key to the secret of the Universe, and they're going to unlock the door any minute."

  Tomys nodded knowingly. "Have you had a chance to socialize with any of them, Captain? Talk to them?"

  Jirik shrugged. "Not really. I've been working dawn to dusk, and with this damned gravity, I just collapse into the rack every night. Oh, I've talked to ship's chandlers, of course, and the workmen and shipping agents. But I haven't even managed to get a beer."

  "Well, Captain," Tomys continued, "When you do, you'll find out why they're so smug. You see, they and the inhabitants of eight other planets in this sector believe that they are destined to save mankind, and ultimately to rule the galaxy."

  Jirik stared for a few seconds, and then dissolved into roaring laughter. Ralf Tomys sat quietly waiting for the Captain's laughter to subside. His irritatingly knowing smile remained intact.

  Jirik finally regained control of himself. Suppressing a final burst of giggles, he wiped his tearing eyes and said, "You're kidding, right? I mean, these rimworlders can't seriously believe that they're going to rule the Empire!"

  "No, not the Empire," replied Tomys seriously, "The entire human-occupied galaxy. And, they are quite serious, I assure you. it's a belief so strong that it could almost be called religious. They refer to it as a 'Manifest Destiny'. You see, they've accepted Atmos' theory completely. It has become an article of faith with them that the Empire will fall within 200 years. In the meantime, they are following a long-term plan that they think will let them save the Galaxy from barbarism or worse. They have only the best and most noble of motives, and sincerely believe that it is their duty to be ready to save mankind when the time comes."

  "This i
s all just as interesting as hell," Jirik interrupted sarcastically, "And I needed a good laugh, but are we getting anywhere that I give a damn about?"

  "Yes, we are, Captain," Tomys replied primly, "but permit me to get there in an orderly fashion. Now, as with all widespread and fervently held belief systems, 'Atmosism' has suffered a schism, and generated a 'heretical' group. This one is called the 'Actionist' Faction. The original group are called 'long-termers'. Some time ago, an Actionist with a sense of humor began referring to the long-termers as "Atmos' Spheres," and the pun stuck. The term is considered vaguely derogatory, and is not well accepted by the long-termers. But it caught on among the younger Actionists, and is widely used. If you hear someone described as a "Sphere" you're probably talking to an Actionist who is referring to a long-termer. If I were you, I'd avoid using the term myself, as it could offend a listener."

  Jirik snorted. "They're all a bunch of crackpots; what the hell do I care what flavor crackpot they are?"

  Tomys shrugged indifferently. "Just some advice, Captain. To help you navigate through an unfamiliar system, as it were.'

  "You're right," Jirik admitted grudgingly. "I'm sorry. But where do we come into all this?"

  "I'm coming to that, Captain." Tomys replied. "You see, Actionists and Long-termers alike share a common belief in their mission to save mankind. The difference is that the Long-Termers believe that the flow of history will inevitably result in their destiny being fulfilled. All that they need do is to see to it that their descendants are ready for the challenge. The University of the Rim has become one of the most prestigious schools in the Alliance. The average education level on the rim planets is now the highest outside the Empire, and they possess a library system unequaled in the Alliance. If you would really like to make a killing, Captain, take your ship to an Empire Sector Library, and bring back a load of copies of technical and scientific books. They'd be worth their weight in iridium here. Anyway, The Long-Termers have been quietly preparing their descendants to pick up the reins of civilization. The Alliance hasn't been bothered by them, because of their peacefulness, and because the type of development that they are experiencing is good for the Alliance, as well."

  "The Actionists, however, are a different matter. They feel that it's not enough to prepare their descendants. They feel that they should be 'spreading the gospel' throughout the Alliance now, enlisting world after world, until they dominate the Alliance. They will then be in a position, they feel, to 'save' worlds as they are abandoned by the Empire, instead of waiting until civilization collapses completely and planets revert to barbarism. These people are the ones I'm investigating. I'm trying to find out if they are a threat to the Alliance, and if so, how much of a threat. There is evidence that at least some of them are militant enough to use terrorism and violence to further their plans. And that brings us to you and your crew, Captain."

  "Finally!" Jirik muttered. Then, louder, "So what do you want from us? Exactly what can we do for you that you can't do for yourself?"

  "You and your crew are outsiders, Captain," was Tomys' reply. "You are spacers. You are from the inner rim, and have frequent contact with the Empire. Given these peoples' appetite for information, I suspect that you have generated a lot of interest. You haven't noticed it because you've been occupied with your repairs. I'd bet that your crew has noticed, though. They're being lionized. They can't buy a drink, because someone else is buying. They don't have any problem finding people to talk to. In fact, groups congregate around them, hanging on their every word. It's almost a spacer's dream."

  Tomys smiled, a genuine smile this time. "Who wouldn't be happy to talk to people who are so interested in where he's been and what he's seen? They're being pumped for information, of course, but in the nicest possible way."

  Jirik grinned. "I can hardly wait. So, what do you want us to do? I mean, we've got no way of knowing what we should or shouldn't tell them. We're not trained agents."

  Tomys returned his smile. "That's obvious, Captain. No, I don't want you or your crew to try to censor anything. You should get some good mileage from your old stories. All I want you to do is to listen as well as talk to your new 'friends'. As you can imagine, I'm most interested in the Actionists. Someone who's trying to pump you for information can reveal quite a lot of information themselves, if they're not careful. Simply let me know if you hear anything that you think may interest me. As you mentioned, you spent ten years in the Alliance Navy. You'll recognize the kind of information I mean if you hear it."

  Jirik's surprise showed in his voice. "That's all? All this was just to get us to listen to bar gossip? No," He continued suspiciously, "there's got to be more to it than that. What's the catch?"

  Tomys' expression was wounded. "There's no catch, Captain. I simply need your help in gathering intelligence. Your crew will be in no danger, I assure you!"

  "Yeah, right," Jirik replied sardonically. "The Alliance has so many Class I's that they send one to check out a bunch of crackpots on the rim. Come on, Tomys," he continued, "I wasn't born yesterday. Nothing's that easy with a Class I spook!"

  Tomys shrugged. "I didn't say that I wouldn't be doing other things, Captain. But your crew need not be involved in anything but information gathering. As you've said, you're not agents, and I don't plan to use you as agents. All that I want you to do is listen."

  Jirik was still unsure. "Okay Mr. Spook," he said reluctantly, "We'll do our best to help. We had decided to do some nosing around to find a cargo anyway. But," he cautioned, "I'm not going to tell my troops to snoop. Except for Bran they're not too sophisticated. I don't want one of the damned fools making some paranoid fanatic suspicious. What I'll do is have them record anything that they can remember anyone saying. Will that do?"

  "That will do nicely, Captain." Tomys' genuine smile was back. "I'll sort though the chaff for the wheat. Let's see, this is Wednesday. I'll come to this office Friday at, say, noon and pick up the tapes. It wouldn't be wise for me to come by your ship, I'm afraid. If you need to contact me before then, call this number," he proffered an ordinary business card, "And tell the person who answers that you have a package for me. I'll contact you as soon as I can."

  "Spook crap again," Jirik replied with distaste. "Okay, I've got it." He put the card in his tunic pocket and rose to his feet. "I can't say it's been a real pleasure, Mr. Tomys, but you're not as much of an asshole as I would have expected from a Class I spook."

  Tomys also rose, his smile turning into a grin, and proffered his hand. "And you're not quite the fat, dumb slob of a rocket jock I expected, either, Captain. Thank you for your time and your help."

  Jirik walked his visitor to the door. "We'll try, but I make no promises that you'll get anything that you can use."

  After Tomys' departure, Jirik sat and stared thoughtfully at the door for several minutes. Tomys was obviously holding something back. The Alliance wouldn't send a Class I to investigate a minor pseudo-religion on a few outlying planets unless they felt that it constituted a major and immediate threat to the entire Alliance. Jirik had absolutely no desire to become involved in a major and immediate threat to the Alliance. Unfortunately, refusal to cooperate with a Class I Agent could result in disaster for Jirik, his crew and his ship, Besides, he was a Alliance citizen, and a threat to the Alliance was not something he could ignore, damn it! And he had thought that he was beyond that patriotic crap! He sighed deeply.

  He did have a problem: his crew. Bran was all right, of course. Jirik was uncomfortably aware that Bran was both more intelligent and more informed than he was himself. He decided that he should consult Bran before taking any action at all. The other two crewmen were the real problem. Valt was probably reveling in every moment of being a celebrity, but Jirik knew that he couldn't tell the man anything without risk of Valt spreading it all over the port. Valt was shallow and not particularly intelligent. He tended to prattle to anyone who would listen. Maybe Bran would have some ideas on handling Valt.

  Tor consti
tuted a different problem. Jirik didn't know Tor very well. He was young, and had the eager-to-please personality of a puppy. Jirik realized with some embarrassment that Tor idolized him, but that would be no guarantee of discretion. The kid would be excited about being involved in something for Alliance Intelligence. The problem was that his excitement and the holovid-spy-like way with which he would go about it would be so obvious that he might as well wear a sign.

  What was obvious was that he was going to have to brief Bran, and then make time to break loose and get out into town to size up the situation.

  With a sense of relief that surprised him, Jirik swept the paperwork on the top of his rented desk into a drawer and locked it. He locked the office, and walked out onto the field to the Bonny Lass in search of Bran.

  Bran was in his beloved engine room. He was suspiciously eyeing both the shore-based technicians who were removing the damaged Inertial Drive generator, and the welders repairing the inner bulkhead penetrated by the marble-sized meteorite that had destroyed the generator. Bran was tall and portly. Graying hair was closely cropped around his bald pate. Jirik smiled at a mental image of Bran as an overweight predator hovering low, ready to pounce on any creature unfortunate enough to raise his ire. As Jirik's Executive Officer, Bran was tasked with overseeing the repairs, but he would have been there anyway. Bran's engines were his pets, and he treated them with tender loving care. Highly intelligent and experienced, Bran should have been commanding his own ship. But, command held no attractions for Bran. His only passions were his books and his engines.

  The compartment light glinted from Bran's bald pate as he turned to see who was invading his domain. The thunderous expression on his round, smooth face cleared somewhat when he identified Jirik, but his brow remained furrowed. His eyes remained on patrol from one group of workmen to the other. Judging by their hunched positions and sullen expressions, they were well aware of his surveillance, and had already experienced Bran's acid tongue.