The Rim Rebels

by Zellmann, William

  "NO!" Jirik roared. "Hell no! I told you before, I'm not about to risk my ship and my crew on some harebrained spook caper. Forget it!"

  Tomys' face had turned stony, his body tensed. "You forget," he snarled, "You still hold a reserve commission in the Alliance Navy. I have the authority to activate it. I also have the authority to commandeer your ship. I don't particularly want to do that, but don't doubt that I will if necessary. I suggest you reconsider."

  "You Bastard!" Jirik's rage was so towering that Tomys came to his feet warily. "You evil sonofabitch! You keep your bloody hands off my ship and my crew. I'm not risking either one for anybody!"

  Tomys eyes had narrowed, his stance wary. "You have no choice, Captain. If I leaked word that you've been working for Alliance Intelligence, none of you would get off this planet alive. Don't mess with me, Captain. I can make you or break you. Don't make me break you!"

  Jirik struggled to control his seething rage. "All right, you slimy bastard. What do you want from us?"

  "I'm not quite sure yet, Captain," Tomys replied blandly, as though nothing unusual had occurred, "I've got to think about this. I'll be in touch. Meanwhile, just carry on as you have been. Complete your repairs and cargo loading. If Fanlin puts his deal together, don't appear too anxious, but say that you'll consider the deal."

  Jirik's fury and frustration continued to seethe as he stalked back to the Lass. They were well and truly screwed. Tomys had a decisively bigger hammer. If he let it leak that the Lass' crew was working for Alliance Intelligence, they were simply dead, either here on Boondock, or after they left, through sabotage during the repairs. If Tomys activated Jirik's reserve commission and commandeered the Lass, and they tried to sneak away, the whole crew could face charges of treason and theft of Alliance property, as well as a whole raft of other charges. There was no place that they could run from charges like that. The Empire would extradite them in a millisecond. There was simply no option for them but to go along with Tomys and hope they survived.

  In a truly memorable instance of bad timing, Valt had been waiting for Jirik's return to pour out his miseries and misfortunes. His mistake was made clear to him when his first whining complaint resulted in a raging torrent of verbal abuse and profanity. He retreated hastily from Jirik's barbed and profane tongue.

  Summoned peremptorily to Jirik's cabin on the intercom, Bran was somewhat prepared for the flood of curses he encountered. Several minutes were required for him to calm his captain sufficiently to learn what was going on. Like Jirik, Bran could see no way to avoid active involvement in Tomys' plans. They discussed the situation for over an hour before deciding that their only course of action was to continue to conceal the agent's involvement from Valt and Tor, and simply continue repairs and loading while praying that Fanlin would be unable to persuade the coalition members to commit the necessary funds to the project. "One good thing," Jirik growled, "At least we can knock off the spying nonsense, and hit the rack early instead of pub-crawling every night! That damned spook didn't specifically tell me to keep it up, and I wasn't about to ask. As far as I'm concerned, we can tell Valt and Tor that the bookchip idea didn't pan out, and that these midnight meetings are canceled due to lack of interest!"

  His fury largely spent, Jirik decided to return to the office to continue work on the load distribution for the incoming cargo, and to await Tor's return. Bran returned to the Engineering deck cursing under his breath at the seemingly endless round of interruptions by his Captain.

  For the next ten days, things settled into a comfortingly normal routine for the crew of the Lass. Bran and Valt had been occupied with the repairs, which Bran had finally, grudgingly, signed off as completed. Jirik and Tor had been equally busy, completing arrangements for the delivery, distribution and stowage of the inbound cargo. Jirik had almost managed to forget about Tomys, and had begun to hope that they would be able to go their way unmolested when Fanlin called, asking Jirik to come to his office.

  Fearing the worst, Jirik made an appointment for the following day.

  Fanlin was clearly excited, greeting them at the door, and pacing nervously back and forth as he imparted the news to Jirik and Tor.

  "We're going to do it!" he exclaimed as soon as his visitors were seated. "I just got word from Wayoff. The Coalition is going to underwrite the deal! It looks as though we are in business, Captain!"

  "Please, sir," Jirik pleaded, "Please slow down. Exactly what do, you mean?"

  Fanlin's tone turned to one of exasperation. "The bookchips man, the bookchips! Surely you haven't forgotten!"

  "No," Jirik replied, "I hadn't forgotten; but, sir, I thought that our discussions had been strictly preliminary and theoretical. In fact, I rather thought that the whole idea had been dismissed."

  Fanlin seemed puzzled by Jirik's apparent lack of enthusiasm. "But, Captain I told you that I was going to write the Coalition!" A wary look came over his thin face. "What is it, Captain? What's going on? I would have thought that you'd be pleased and excited. Is something wrong?"

  Jirik shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "To be quite honest, sir, I had hoped that the Coalition would refuse." His raised hand forestalled Fanlin's heated interruption. "Please allow me to explain, sir. If you'll recall, our previous meeting started out as strictly an effort to gain information about the feasibility of such a deal. Mr. Cony administered a strong dose of reality. I realized that a deal like this is simply too big for an independent trader. I am not prepared to deal with millions of someone else's credits. If anything went wrong, my crew and I could be completely wiped out, and perhaps even find ourselves on a prison planet."

  "But Albet tells me that you handle cargoes worth millions every day!" Fanlin yelled. He could see his big opportunity evaporating before his eyes, and he was beginning to panic. "What's so different about this one?"

  Jirik shrugged. "You're right, although we rarely think in those terms. But we're not responsible for those cargoes, other than to ensure safe delivery. Such deals are handled by bonded agents on both ends. I'm just a truck driver who occasionally takes a fling at my own trading. I'm not insured or bonded to handle a deal this size. Frankly, sir, it scares hell out of me!"

  Fanlin's panic was rising. "But, Captain! This is the opportunity of a lifetime for both of us! It may be years before another ship of your size calls here. Albet says that yours is the largest ship to call here in over ten years! We can make the rim the cultural equal of any sector of the Alliance, or even of the Empire! And how many chances are you going to get to make a million-credit profit? Think about it, Captain! Without agent's commissions, you could easily clear a profit of a million or more. Surely you can't just walk away from that!"

  The hell I can't, Jirik thought. He wanted nothing more than to walk away from the deal, the spook, spy stuff and the rim. But he couldn't voice this opinion. Fanlin was getting even more agitated. If he carried his objections too far, the man might voice his grievances to someone like Cony . . . who Tomys thought was the head of the Actionists on Boondock, and who might become very suspicious. It was time to temper his refusal a bit.

  "All right, Mr. Fanlin. I'll bring your offer to my crew. If they decide that the deal is worth the risk, we'll pursue it more completely. I can have the results of a vote for you tomorrow. Will that be satisfactory?"

  Fanlin's expression made it obvious that it wasn't, but he replied, "That will be quite acceptable, Captain. Please get back to me as early as possible, as we will have much to discuss if you take the deal."

  Once back at the port, Jirik dug out the now-dog-eared card Tomys had given him on their first meeting, and left the message that would supposedly result in Tomys' contacting him. He then returned to overseeing the stowage of their inbound cargo.

  It was some two hours later that Jirik received a vidphone from Tomys, inviting him to lunch. Alerting Bran to continue overseeing the stowage, Jirik left for town cursing spooks, Actionists, Fanlin, and rimworlders in general.

  Unlike Jirik,
Tomys was pleased about the offered deal. Jirik made no secret of his own misgivings.

  "Fanlin has a point, Captain," Tomys declared. "If you turn down a potential million credit deal simply on the basis of risk, these Coalition people are going to begin wondering about you."

  Jirik snorted. "What the hell do I care whether they wonder or not? I'll be safely off planet and off the rim. And that's all I want – off this planet and off the rim." And away from you and the Actionists, he added silently

  Tomys was unimpressed. "I don't want to have to force the issue, Captain, but don't doubt that I will. I assume that you would be required to deliver portions of your cargo to all of the rim worlds."

  Jirik shrugged. "I didn't let Fanlin get that specific, but I would imagine so. I can't imagine the other rim worlds buying a load of bookchips for Boondock. I'm sure that each of them would expect their share of the shipment." He glowered at Tomys, "I still don't like it. I don't know what you think you'd gain from me running around the rim delivering bookchips, but I don't think I want to find out. You're asking me and my crew to risk everything we have including our freedom, for some silly spook caper that probably won't help anyone!"

  "Not at all, Captain. I'm simply asking you to take a business proposition that could net you and your crew a million credits or more. If I wasn't involved at all, and you received an offer like this, you'd seriously consider it, wouldn't you?"

  Jirik nodded, and Tomys continued, "Of course you would. All I'm doing is urging you to take the deal."

  "'Urging', right." Jirik replied bitterly, "Except that if I refuse, you'll force me to 'reconsider', right?"

  Tomys smiled thinly. "Let's just see how the crew's vote goes before we consider unpleasant possibilities, Captain. I suspect that your crew may be more . . . shall we say . . . 'receptive' to a million-credit profit than you seem to be."

  Jirik's only reply was a noncommittal and graceless grunt. In view of the latest development, Tomys decided that they should remain in daily contact through Jirik's rented office. He admitted that he expected the terrorist arm of the Actionists to contact Jirik if the deal was made, in an attempt to get him to smuggle military information or equipment.

  Jirik returned to the ship with a strong sense of foreboding. Things seemed to be rapidly getting out of hand. Events were running away with the crew of the Lass, and he felt helpless to halt, slow, or steer them. After briefing Bran, he called the crew meeting.

  Tor, of course, had been with him during both meetings with Fanlin, and was well aware of the purpose and importance of the meeting. He was near bursting from trying to keep from spilling the information before the meeting.

  Since Jirik had briefed Bran completely, Valt was the only member of the crew who didn't know the purpose of the meeting.

  Jirik's plan for Valt was obviously working. Valt was clear-eyed and obviously clear-headed. The normal healthy ruddiness had returned to his complexion, and he even appeared to have lost some sedentary weight in the past week. The improvement went beyond the physical. He seemed cheerful and interested. He was once again the shipmate that Jirik and Bran had had before coming to this benighted planet.

  Jirik started the log recorder, and called the meeting to order.

  He simply told them about the proposed deal, the possible rewards, and the concurrent risk.

  "I want to make very sure that everyone understands the risks involved," he said. "Fanlin will be handing me a letter of credit for over twenty million credits, enough to attract the attention of every pirate gang between here and Alpha. And," he continued, "every pirate between here and Alpha knows that since there is no such thing as FTL communications, we will have to physically carry a letter of credit that will be honored on any planet in the Empire with no questions asked."

  "How are they going to find out about it, Captain?" asked Valt. "I mean, we're not likely to talk about it. You think there are spies in the Library?"

  Jirik smiled sourly. "Actually, that's not impossible, Valt. Add to that the fact that Library officials on all nine of the planets were informed and voted, which means their staffs also know about it. Then, the financial people who were responsible for processing that large letter of credit itself, plus who knows how many that were involved in bringing the letter of credit to Boondock. Somewhere in that long list of people there is certain to be one who will sell the information to one or more pirates.

  "I want you to know that if we accept this deal, we will be running a gauntlet all the way to Alpha. If we take the most direct route, we could be certain of finding a pirate at more than one recal system. The Lass is not a warship, and she isn't even armed. All we can do is run for it; and pirate ships have both weapons and speed.

  "If we can make it to Alpha, we can earn a payday of more than a million credits. If not, we'll all be dead.

  "I want you all to give this serious thought. We would be literally risking our lives for the chance of a big payday. Valt, you have a better idea than the rest of us of the risks we'll be taking and the things we can do to protect ourselves. What do you think? What are our chances of getting through?"

  Valt was clearly excited, but he also looked thoughtful. "I see your point, Captain. Every Astrogator knows there are "common" recal systems that most people use. We would have to avoid those, but I think I can do it.

  "We're on the outer edge of the Alliance. We will have to cross the width of the entire Alliance, plus a significant portion of the Empire. It's a very long haul.

  "But don't forget, we're safe while we're Supralight; the only real risk would be when we have to drop into normal space to recalculate, recalibrate, and reorient between jumps. From here to Alpha, we'd probably have to stop about twelve times; and it takes about three hours to recalculate and reorient for the next jump. So, we'd really be vulnerable for twelve periods of about three hours each, on the most direct route. If we detoured a bit, we could avoid the most popular recalibration points, and stick to ones that are rarely used. That would reduce that threat, but it would mean maybe fifteen jumps instead of twelve. While we are on Alpha or on the way back, there really shouldn't be much risk. On Alpha, the money will be in a bank, and on the way back, well, nobody hijacks a load of bookchips. I think that a million credit profit is worth some risk. I'm for it!"

  Tor was writhing uncomfortably in his chair. "Uh, Captain? Uh, could you tell me why it takes so long to recalibrate and reorient? I mean, uh, what does an Astrogator do, anyway?"

  Valt threw up his hands. "Aw, Crap, not again!" he said disgustedly.

  Jirik frowned. "Stow it, Valt. In fact, why don't you explain to Tor what you do?"

  Valt shrugged, but his flush and satisfied smirk revealed his pleasure. "Oh, all right. Look, kid, when you were younger, did they have any kind of ball games on that farm world of yours? I mean games using a small spherical object that's either thrown or hit?"

  "Oh, sure," Tor replied. "We had a bunch of them. Why?"

  "Well," Valt replied, "Let's say that you're back on that mudball of yours, and you're super strong. Someone draws a circle a meter in diameter on the ground a kilometer away, and the object is to throw the ball and hit the circle. Well, that's a simple explanation of a jump, the way they explained it to us when I first started Astrogation school. Now, obviously, you can't change the ball's direction once you've thrown it. That means that you have to aim very carefully before you throw. That's what I do . . . I pick out a target star as far away toward our destination as I can be sure of hitting, then calibrate the length of the jump required to get there, and reorient the ship so that it's headed in exactly the right direction. In other words, I aim it. But, it's not enough just to hit the target system. We don't want to break out inside a planet or star, or another ship. That means that I have to calculate emergence at the outer edge of the system." Valt was warming to his theme, and Jirik started to interrupt when Valt continued. "But, that's not enough, either. I have to try to calculate an emergence point that will be on a tangent, s
o that we won't have to maneuver across the whole system on inertial drive." He was excitedly beginning to describe the almost insurmountable problems he managed to surmount on every jump when Jirik interrupted.

  "I think he gets the general idea, Valt." Jirik said. "We have to wrap this meeting up. I hope that Valt helped you understand what's involved in astrogating, Tor."

  Tor nodded uncertainly. "Well, I s-s-still have a lot of questions, but I'll read up on it."

  Jirik nodded. "Good. Then, let's get back to the subject. What do you think about the book deal?"

  Well, sir," Tor replied deferentially, "I know that I'm the new kid, and all, and maybe I don't know much about space trade, but I became a spacer to see things and do things. This looks to me like a little adventure and a big payoff. I don't want to spend the next five or ten years jumping grain from system to system to build up our capital."

  "I'm not wild about the idea of hauling low-value cargo for the next few years, either," Jirik replied, "But I'd rather be alive and do that than be dead chasing a million-credit payoff. Bran, what do you think?"

  Bran had been listening carefully, his long face creased in thought. "Well, Captain," he answered slowly, "The risks are high, but I agree with the others. I think that the rewards are commensurate with the risks. We can take precautions that will limit the risk of piracy or hijacking; the type of precautions we'd use with any very-high-value cargo. I vote for it."

  Jirik sighed deeply. "Well, that's it, then. Even with my two votes as Captain, I'm outvoted. I'll contact Fanlin first thing in the morning to start negotiations. In the meantime, it's vital that we keep this as quiet as possible. Our lives may depend on each of you keeping it secret. Aside from Fanlin and Cony, the only people who know about us moving millions of credits are on Wayoff and in this compartment. Now, I can't do anything about those people on Wayoff but hope that they'll keep their mouths shut. But if I find out that any of you even hinted to anyone else about this deal, you'll wish you were never born!"