"All Right, let's get to it. I know that we all want to hit the rack, so let's make this short and sweet. What looked easy this afternoon wasn't easy after all. Tomorrow, This morning, actually, I'm going to give us a little break. Work will start at 0900 instead of 0700."
"I think that we can all use the extra rest, especially with this damned gravity pulling at us. I will have to have one volunteer get up early to meet the repair crew at 0700."
"Let me do it, Captain." It was Tor, of course, eager to prove himself. "I can do it. I'll meet them, and escort them to Engineering, and then I'll stay with them until Bran gets there."
"I'll do it, Captain," Bran put in wearily. "They'll have the old bitch down around our ears if I don't watch them."
"No, Bran," Jirik replied, "Tor can handle it; and if he can't, we'd better find out now. You're worn out. If you get completely exhausted, you'll be useless to us just when we need you the most. You'll have to check out their work after they've finished, and before we sign it off as completed."
Bran started to interrupt, but Jirik held up his hand. "No arguments, Bran. You know I'm right, and we're all just too damned tired to argue about it. I'm ordering you to sleep in tomorrow morning. If you show up in Engineering before 0900, you're going to be in deep dreck!"
"Now, to business," Jirik continued firmly, "Tor, did you talk to anyone, find out anything interesting?"
Tor was flushed with pride at the responsibility Jirik had given him a moment ago. "Y-Y-Yessir! I went over to the University and hung around with some of the students over there. They sure got excited that we might bring back a load of bookchips. Everybody wanted to talk about it."
A puzzled look came over his face. "One thing, though, everybody seemed mostly to want technical and scientific books, and lots of political stuff. I don't understand it. I can understand them wanting technical and scientific stuff, but it seems weird that college kids on a rim planet would be so interested in politics. It seems that a lot of them are what they call 'Actionists'. I never heard of that party before." Jirik was amused at how Tor's usual stammering and stuttering disappeared when he forgot his self-consciousness.
'"Actionists', huh?" Jirik said in a thoughtful tone, "I came across that name, too. Did they tell you anything about themselves?"
"Well, that's kinda funny, too," Tor replied. "They kept saying that they were gonna make sure that man was ready for the fall of the Empire. That's kinda silly, isn't it? I mean, the Empire covers thousands of star systems and millions of planets. Why should it fall?"
Jirik continued to draw Tor out. "Yeah, well, I heard that stuff, too. What did your friends say about it?"
"They said that the Empire was gonna fall within 200 years, and that mankind had to be ready. One of 'em said something about 'When we take over', but one of the others kicked him to shut him up, and said that he was just joking."
Tor shrugged. "I got the feeling that they didn't want to talk to an outworlder about something. The last thing I wanted was trouble, so I didn't push it. Anyway, it seems to me that there's a lot of enthusiasm about us bringing a load of books out here. I mentioned that we could be talking about millions of chips, but the main idea seemed to be 'the more the better'. They said that even if Boondock by itself couldn't afford them, some other planets in the sector would be willing to either buy them or help Boondock buy them. I guess the planets in this sector cooperate a lot, help each other out."
"Good," Jirik replied. "You've done well." he stifled a grin at Tor's flush of pleasure. His incipient grin vanished as he turned disgustedly to Valt. "How about you, Valt? Did you find out anything useful before you got flashed?"
Valt's bloodshot eyes labored to focus as he looked up dully. "Whaddaya want from me? I told you these groundhogs don' wanna talk about anything but politics. I don't think they give a crap about books. It's 'Atmos this' and 'when we take over, that'. Imagine these groundhogs thinkin' they're gonna take over the Alliance! They're a buncha nuts."
Jirik was carefully casual. "Take over the Alliance? What the hell do you mean?"
Valt snorted disgustedly. "Thass what I mean! Couple a them nuts gimme this bull about how they was gonna take control of the Gov'ment of Boondock, and then some other places. After they got eight or nine systems under 'em, they said they was gonna take over the Alliance, so that as the Empire abandoned systems, they could move in an' save 'em. See what I mean? Nuts!"
Jirik and Bran exchanged significant glances. So that was it! That was why a Class I agent was hanging around. These people were planning to take over the Alliance, presumably by force. They hadn't a hope in hell of converting all of the populations of a hundred and fifty-odd planets to "Atmosism".
Jirik sighed. It was obvious that he and Bran would have to postpone sleeping until they got some things figured out! In the meantime, he would have to carry out the rest of the charade for Tor and Valt.
"Okay, Valt, good job. Keep it up. Anything you hear, no matter how crazy it sounds, may turn out to be information that we can use. Bran, how about you?"
"Well, I went back to the bookstore I visited yesterday," Bran replied, "I figured that they might talk more freely with me. I did find out that there is no single union of booksellers who could buy a cargo. There is a bookseller's organization, but I gather that it's more social than economic. Unlike everybody else, the dealer I talked with wasn't pleased with our idea. I gather that he felt that a cargo of several million bookchips would severely depress the market. The size of the cargo is the only objection he had, however. He suggested that we consider breaking the cargo down among eight or nine of the rim worlds, with each taking a piece. He did seem to feel that the bookseller's organization could put together a cooperative offer with the organizations of the other rim worlds, but we would have to deliver a part of the cargo to each of the participating worlds." Bran sighed doubtfully. "It doesn't sound too good to me, Captain. Unless the Library can come up with something better, I don't think I can recommend the deal."
"Well," Jirik replied, "We'll find out about that tomorrow. I didn't learn anything fantastic either. Everybody gets excited about having the books, but they all seem to be obsessed with politics. Well, we'll just have to keep listening and keep thinking. If a cargo of books won't do it, maybe something else will. Market information is valuable. Meanwhile, let's all turn in and get a good night's sleep. We're going to be busy, all of us." He looked meaningfully at Valt. "Let's go, get the hell out of here!"
As Tor and Valt filed out of the compartment, Jirik signed to Bran to remain, and turned off the log recorder. They had a lot to discuss. As the others' footsteps in the passage outside faded, Jirik sighed deeply and turned to Bran.
"Okay," he said wearily, "So now we know. It had to be something like that, to get a Class I agent involved."
"Yeah," agreed Bran, "We're still caught in the middle, but at least now we know what we're caught in the middle of!" He looked thoughtful. "Their security stinks. They've got entirely too many people who know that they're planning to take over the Alliance, and too many of them talk too much. I can understand how the Alleys got wind of it. Trouble is, I don't see what that Class I needs with us. I mean, what does he think we can find out that he can't, and why does he think so? Maybe he thinks that they'll approach us to run in a shipment of weapons, or something."
"Yeah. I was wondering about that myself," Jirik replied. "If a crew of strange spacers can hear about it in bars in one night, a trained agent should be able to find out everything there is to know in a few days, including the underwear sizes of the people behind it. The funny thing is, these people don't seem to realize that what they're talking about is sedition, and maybe even armed treason. They don't seem to see anything wrong with it."
Bran grimaced tiredly. "I noticed that, too. It's weird. They all act as though they were just talking about a normal political process. It was the same in that bookstore that I visited. When I went in, a group of them congregated around me again. I asked the clerk if he had a cop
y of Atmos' major work. I told him that been hearing the name since I got here, and I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. They all started talking at the same time, trying to tell me about Atmos, and the Empire, and the future. Next thing I know, they almost came to blows over this Actionist/Longtermer stuff. For a while, I was afraid that leaving you was useless, that I was going to be involved in a brawl anyway. In a bookstore!" Bran looked so scandalized by the idea that Jirik had to chuckle.
"Anyway," Bran continued with a wounded expression, "They didn't quite swing on each other. But from what they said to each other, and me, I managed to get quite a bit of information. Most of it agrees with what the kid heard. The Actionists are a political party on Boondock, and they control a close minority in the Planetary Council. They're confident that they will gain control at the next election, next year some time. The Actionist candidate for President lost by a margin of less than seven percentage points in the last election, and they believe that they'll win the next one. With an Actionist President and Actionist control of the Council, they will effectively rule Boondock. From what I could gather, they already control the planets of Outback and Farout, and expect to win on at least three more rim worlds in their next elections. That means Actionist control of at least six planets within the next two years, and possibly the other three Atmos-influenced rim worlds in the two or three years beyond that. I think that's when the greatest threat to the Alliance will materialize."
"The rumor is that they plan to secede from the Alliance once they're 'united'. Exactly how they plan to do it, I don't know. One version has them simply petitioning the Alliance Council to release them. Another version was vague, but assumes that they'll be able to force the issue. I couldn't probe any further without causing suspicion, so I let it drop. But, I think that at least some of them are prepared to use force, if necessary, to establish this 'Rim Worlds Coalition' they plan to set up." Bran paused, evidently expecting a shocked response from Jirik which wasn't forthcoming.
"At any rate," he continued in a nettled tone, "The nine Atmos-influenced worlds evidently already exist in a close-knit sort of symbiotic relationship that's amazing, considering the distances involved. After all, Farout is some ten light-years from Toolie, the farthest-opposite 'Coalition' world. They seem to exist in a sort of communal interdependence." Bran raised his hand, continuing as he ticked them off, "Farout, Toolie and Beyond are largely agricultural worlds, supplying the rest with Earth-Descended foods. Boondock and Varner's World are mining planets, supplying the others with raw materials and heavy metals. Outback, Border and Yonder are manufacturing worlds, supplying the others with needed technology. The other member of this "Coalition" is Wayoff. I'm not sure what their contribution is, yet. It's a very strange situation. I don't think it's ever come about before. Many planets strive for planetary self-sufficiency, and it's not unusual for them to attain it. It usually results in some deprivation, though; making do without something or with a local substitute. Here we have nine planets, none self-sufficient in themselves, but together almost completely so."
"They have an almost closed-loop trading relationship. Each is free to trade outside the group, of course, and most do, to one extent or another. The thing is that none of them have to trade outside the group. Naturally, there is a danger of increasing insularity, but at the moment at least, that doesn't seem to be a problem."
"Most of what they seem to import from non-coalition planets is knowledge and high technology. That cargo of medical electronics that we delivered here, for example. Since most of the Coalition planets have trade surpluses with their non-Coalition trading partners, they can collectively muster enough Alliance credits for just about anything that they can agree that they want. That cargo of bookchips we've been using as a cover story, for instance. If Boondock could convince the rest of the Coalition members that they were worth having, they could buy them easily; in fact, they could probably buy copies of everything in that Empire library, if they decided that they needed them."
Jirik grunted in a preoccupied tone. "Wait . . . Wasn't there a situation a thousand or so years ago where two planets in a binary system had an arrangement like that?"
Bran waved a dismissing hand. "Tweedledum and Tweedledee. But they were in the same system. They got into a disagreement and damned near wiped each other out before the Empire stepped in and put a stop to it. Captain, we're talking about nine planets spread over ten light-years of rim space. Believe me, it's never happened before. And, if they all fall under the domination of the Actionists, the Alliance will face an unprecedented situation; nine unified planets in one sector simultaneously demanding secession, and acting with a single controlling idea."
"If they do petition the Council to be released, and the Council agrees, what then? Do they continue to subvert neighboring planets, who will soon be petitioning to join the Coalition? I doubt that they would simply sit back on their nine little planets waiting for the Empire to fall. And if the Council refuses to release them, what then? Does the subversion continue until the Actionists dominate the Alliance Council? Would there be an armed insurrection by nine prosperous, united systems? Could the Alliance Navy put down such an insurrection? For thousands of years, it's been a political maxim that prolonged interstellar war was impossible, due to the distances and logistics problems involved." Bran looked at Jirik seriously, his somber look emphasizing his cadaverous appearance. "I'm scared, Jirik. I'm afraid that we may have to prove that maxim within a very few years. And I don't think we're going to like it!"
Chapter 4
A still-weary Jirik dragged himself from his bunk at 0830 the morning. Bran's words had haunted his fitful sleep all night. Deity! he hoped Bran was wrong. His Navy experience gave him a sense of strategic and tactical situations that Bran didn't share; and he was, if anything, more worried than Bran. As he completed his morning ablutions and donned a clean uniform, he tried to visualize the military situation as it would appear to the Alliance.
The Coalition planets formed a ten-light-year crescent along the Alliance's frontier, the concave face of the crescent facing unexplored (or at least unsettled) space. Their convex inner limit would form a bulge facing Alliance forces. Without frantic exploration of the space beyond the Coalition for the purpose of mapping, it would be very risky to attempt to outflank them. Ships and crews would be lost to uncharted navigational hazards.
The Alliance Navy was not large enough to sustain many such losses. After all, the Navy's mission was primarily to protect the spacelanes. It was held at a size that would permit it to perform its security mission, to patrol the border with the Empire, to prevent brigandage across the border, and possibly to put down a planetary insurrection, should one occur. If the Navy called much of its strength from security and border patrol, brigandage and outright piracy would quickly follow. In fact, such crimes had been increasing recently. Maybe Atmos wasn't so crazy, after all!
Certainly, the Navy's unofficial motto of "One Planet, One Ship" had a certain amount of validity. A Battle Cruiser orbiting a planet beyond the reach of ground-based weapons, and capable of overwhelming all known ground-based defenses, was usually assumed to be intimidating enough to discourage would-be rebels. If it were accompanied by a transport carrying a Marine battalion, suppression of insurrection would not normally be a problem.
A rebellion of nine prosperous systems would be a totally different case. Both the raw materials and manufacturing facilities would be available to the Coalition, and any information needed to begin the manufacture of weapons would be available on Boondock. Jirik didn't know how many of the Rim Tramps were available to the Coalition, but there could be as many as a hundred; and it wouldn't be at all difficult to outfit them with missiles and particle beam weapons, creating an almost instant fleet of warships. Admiral Kedron had shown they could quickly become effective warships a century ago.
If Jirik were commanding such a fleet, he'd station it near the center of the crescent, and place small picket ships in ea
ch planetary system. These pickets would flee at top supralight speed at the first appearance of Alliance ships, carrying word to the fleet. In this manner, the fleet would be able to respond within hours to a threat to any of the Coalition planets. Especially if the space on the far side of the Coalition were not quite as "unexplored" as the Alliance thought. A large number of small tramps, stripped for speed and armed, could overcome the defenses of the largest Alliance cruiser, the way a pack of wolves can drag down the largest prey.
Any military man knows that the most dangerous opponent he can face is a fanatic; and most of the Actionists appeared to be fanatics. Unless Tomys and his compatriots could subvert and destroy the Actionist movement covertly, with some sort of fifth column operation, it appeared that the Alliance could have a real problem.
Well, he decided, he would see Tomys tomorrow at his office, and discuss it with him. Meanwhile, he had ship's business to attend to, and he'd better get going.
Jirik took a final look at himself in the mirror, and was not impressed. The bruise on his cheek had entered what Bran sardonically called its "somber rainbow" phase: colorful, but in dull hues of purple, red and black. His eye, swollen half-closed last night, had closed even further, and shared his cheek's color scheme. None of his visible cuts and bruises was still bleeding but several were quite obvious. He hardly looked the part of a serious businessman. Since he would have to deal with a shipping agent and possibly even a librarian, this simply would not do. He delved into the first aid kit. The bruise on his cheek, as well as most of the cuts, he effectively camouflaged with makeup. The eye, however, was another problem. Debating mentally for a few moments, he finally selected a square of plastiflesh bandage and placed it over the offending eye. The plastiflesh looked better than the colorful eye, and he could simply explain it as an accident, perhaps implying that he was injured in the same encounter that damaged the ship. He rechecked his appearance in the mirror, and decided that he looked considerably more respectable. He went off to find Tor.
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