The Rim Rebels

by Zellmann, William

  The grin got even wider. "Thanks, Skipper. But I hope you don't expect every recal to be as quick. The farther in we get the more crowded space becomes, and the longer it'll take to sort out the next jump. This one was easy, because we're still in rim space, and I can set up longer jumps."

  Jirik nodded. "I know, but less than two hours is still record time from jump to jump." He stood, and stretched luxuriously. "Okay, let's stand down from emergency stations. Tor, take the bridge while all us oldtimers grab a nap and a shower. I'll see you all at dinner."

  Telson's weary eyes showed her appreciation for this break in routine, but she nodded silently and strode from the bridge, followed by Jirik.

  Chapter 8

  Dinner that 'evening' was a raucous affair, revealing the extent of the tension that they had felt. Even the usually reserved Bran joined the loud talk and boisterous laughter. It was obvious that Telson had proved her capabilities, and was now universally accepted as one of the crew. They had even begun calling her "Via" instead of "Telson," though doing so tended to send Tor into a blushing, stuttering confusion. Jirik had to keep reminding himself that the woman had to be assumed to be a spy in their midst.

  It was Tor who turned the talk to Boondock and its people. Jirik noted with concern that Via's long-lashed eyes grew veiled, face expressionless, and her comments noncommital. Tor seemed surprised that none of the others seemed as interested as he in comparing notes. Finally, he grew desperate as the conversation languished, and began repeating some of the Actionist propaganda with which his newfound friends had primed him.. He rattled on for several minutes before he noticed the universally disapproving expressions on his shipmates' faces, and subsided into confusion.

  In the ensuing uncomfortable silence, Via excused herself and strode out of the mess deck. Bran quickly followed, muttering about a drive adjustment he wanted to make.

  Tor was confused and hurt. "Did I say something wrong Captain?" he asked mournfully.

  "You sure as hell did, son," Jirik replied. He sighed deeply. Time for his patented "Spacer's Survival Guide For Life Among the Groundhogs" lecture. "Look, kid, You're sharp. You're gonna learn a lot, and someday, you're going to be a hell of a spacer. But you'd better start learning some fundamentals right now. Otherwise, you're gonna be found face down in an alley on some dump of a planet." He took a deep breath. "Like I said, you're gonna learn a lot; but nothing that you will learn will be as important to your survival as what I'm about to tell you. Every planet has a culture, and each is different from the other. Spacers have a culture, too. Mostly it's based on keeping our skins intact, and making enough of a profit to keep going; but the Spacer culture is more sophisticated than any planet-bound culture in the galaxy. It has to be, because a planet-bound culture, no matter how sophisticated and cosmopolitan, is insular. Its separateness makes it inevitable. Planet-bound cultures diverge from each other."

  Tor was looking bewildered. "I don't understand, Captain. What's this got to do with me comparing notes with my shipmates?"

  "A lot, kid," Jirik replied, "A whole lot." He leaned close to the teenager, his intent look highlighting the importance of what he was saying. "The point is, kid, that Spacer culture is based on adapting to and surviving those thousands of different planetary cultures out there. Over the centuries, Spacers have visited thousands of planets, millions of times. A lot of them died. But those that lived, learned. Eventually, they worked out rules that let them survive." Jirik sat back and shrugged. "There aren't many of them, and they aren't complicated. But if you want to survive in space, you'd better learn them.. Learn them now, and obey them, and you'll live to retire. Fail to learn then., and you'll die. Oh, you might get lucky and squeak by for years; but eventually, the odds will catch up with you, and you'll die."

  Tor's confusion had changed to seriousness, then intentness, and finally the teen's typical impatience. He was too intimidated by his captain to give free rein to his sarcastic impulse, but his voice sounded surly and impatient. "So, what are these fabulous commandments, Captain? Are they engraved on tablets of stone, or something?"

  Jirik sighed resignedly. Kids! "No, kid, they're nothing so formal. Just things that spacers have learned over the last ten thousand years that helped them get along and survive. Rule One: Always try to conform to the local manners and mores. If the natives rub blue mud in their navels, take off your tunic, and make sure that the mud you use isn't red. Most civilized cultures will give a spacer the benefit of doubt if they can see that he's at least trying to conform, but if you start acting superior, or indifferent to their customs and mores, they'll kill you; at least, some of them will; and you never know which ones. On an unfamiliar planet, a spacer's best course is to keep his eyes straight ahead and down, act friendly, and never say or do anything even remotely controversial."

  "The problem is," Jirik continued wryly, "You never know what might be controversial. So you try to speak in generalities until you learn enough to stay out of trouble."

  Tor fidgeted impatiently as Jirik continued, "Rule two: Never seduce a respectable woman. The problem with that one is that you can never be sure just what constitutes a 'respectable' woman until it's too late. The safest way is to stick to port whores."

  Jirik leaned forward again, his intent expression making Tor straighten and abandon his bored expression. "Rule three: Never, ever, get involved in politics or religion. Those are two of the most powerful forces in most peoples' lives, and no matter what stand you take, you're bound to offend someone."

  "But, Captain!" Tor protested, "This isn't local politics This is the future of mankind, galaxy-wide, that we're talking about!"

  Jirik shook his head grimly. "It doesn't matter. Son, I don't give a damn if you're talking about planetary, sector-wide, Alliance, Empire, or the whole damned galaxy, you're asking for trouble. How well do think a veteran of the Januvian Uprising would receive this Actionist crap? Hell, the Januvians were saving mankind, too!"

  Tor snorted. "The Januvians were religious nuts! They thought that the only way to 'save' people was to kill them!"

  "Not quite, son," Jirik replied quietly. "I was there. The Januvians were a little more intolerant than most fundamentalist religions, but they were sincere. They were certain that anyone who could not be converted to their beliefs had to be killed to save all the rest of humanity from 'damnation', whatever that means. Even when they started slaughtering off-planet visitors, the Alliance stayed out of it, figuring that their own isolation would solve the problem. But when they began using the ships of those they'd killed to go on killing raids of neighboring planets, the Navy had to step in. When we tried to embargo their planet, their leaders declared a 'holy war', and started building ground-based, nuclear-pumped lasers that could shoot down orbiting ships.

  We eventually had to go in and kill every man and woman, and most of the children, on the whole damned planet." His expression became haunted. "A lot of us died throwing up. Burning down a pregnant woman or a ten-year-old carrying an old slug-thrower or even a scythe isn't war. it's slaughter, and it's sickening. "But," Jirik continued bitterly, "We either burned them down or we died. It was that simple. They just wouldn't stop!" He slammed his fist on the table. "They just wouldn't stop." For a moment, he was lost in memory, his stony expression mute testimony to the nature of those memories. Abruptly he shook himself and straightened.

  "Now," he continued briskly, "You try to run that Actionist crap by somebody who was on Januvia, and you'll be lucky if he doesn't kill you where you stand, without a word. You see, the Actionists are preaching the same kind of bullshit that the Januvians fell for."

  Tor was shaken by his captain's reactions, but he protested, "It's not the same at all! The Actionists just want to save mankind from a new dark age!"

  "The hell it isn't!" Jirik's fierce tone made Tor shrink back into his chair. "The Januvians just wanted to save mankind from 'damnation'." He forced himself to calmness. "Look, Tor, These people think that they need to have control of
the entire Alliance, and maybe the entire Empire, to 'save' mankind from this new dark age. So far, they've been able to influence a handful of planets on the rim of known space. Now they're figuring that they should 'spread the word' to the other nearby planets. Are you really so naive as to think that they will be able to gain control of the entire Alliance in 200 years by peaceful means? Do you really think that all those millions of people are going to calmly surrender control of their planets, their sector, their Alliance, to a bunch of Rimworld fanatics? Even the Actionists know better. They tried to bribe me to smuggle battle comp software back from the Empire. They know better, and you'd better decide which side you're going to be on when the coin drops."

  Tor looked stunned. "They tried to get you to smuggle military stuff? I can't believe it. Everyone I met was so nice, so reasonable. Why would they need military stuff?"

  Jirik's thin smile was grim. "They've had a lot more time to think about this than you have, kid. Oh, sure, most of them are nice enough, maybe even naive enough to really believe that every damned human in the galaxy will just join them, if they will only listen. But the leaders know that they won`t listen. They know that, sooner or later, probably sooner, they're going to have to take what they want by force; and what they want is the Alliance. They're gearing up for a war." He sighed gustily. "Go think about it, kid. Think hard, and figure out where you stand. And in the meantime, keep your damned mouth shut. Consider it an order. I won't have politics discussed on my ship. When you figure out where you stand, let me know. I plan to be as far from the rim as possible when this thing pops, and if you decide that you're on their side, we'll sign you off when we get back to the rim."

  Tor's expression was panicked as Jirik rose to leave the mess deck. "I don't want to sign off, Captain! Please, let me stay aboard! I'll keep my mouth shut, I promise!"

  Jirik turned in the hatchway. "Relax, kid. There's time. You think about it. If you decide that your place is with the Actionists, let me know by the time we get to Alpha." He strode firmly away from the mess deck and Tor's stricken face.

  As Jirik walked toward his Cabin, he passed Via lounging in her own cabin door. The golden woman straightened as he approached. "Can I talk to you for a minute, Captain?" she asked.

  Jirik shrugged, and led her down the passage to his own cabin. Closing the door, Jirik sighed wearily and said, "Okay, Via, what's on your mind?" It was hard to tell for sure, but Jirik would have sworn that the woman was embarrassed!

  Via shuffled uncomfortably. "Uh. I don't know exactly how to say this. I screwed up, Captain. Uh, I guess that the best way is just to come out with it. I'm a spy, or at least I'm supposed to be one. Damn! It sounds stupid just saying it like that!"

  Surprised, Jirik hesitated, then waved Via toward the room's chair, and thumped down on his bunk. "You want to tell me just what the hell that means?" he asked in an edged tone.

  Via Shifted uncomfortably in the too-large chair. "I'm going to, Captain. I just don't know how. Look, I was stranded on Boondock for almost a local year. Just scraping by, you know?" At Jirik's nod, she continued. "Well, when things were really tight, I met some people, you know? I mean, they were nice, they didn't hit on me, they were very sympathetic, they helped me get some jobs to keep me going, and I rather liked them."

  "I didn't pay much attention to this Atmos crap at first, of course. But finally, my 'friends' got me to read some of his stuff, and after a while, reading about it, and talking about it, I guess they convinced me; or at least it was easier to just agree with them.

  "After awhile, they introduced me to this guy Cony, and we talked a lot, and I guess I got more and more into it. I was even thinking about taking him to bed."

  Jirik hoped that his start at the mention of Cony's name hadn't been visible. "So, How did you get from there to spying? It seems like a long reach, even for politics."

  Via shifted uncomfortably. "To tell you the truth, I don't know. I mean, it just sort of happened. As I said, I'd been talking to Albet Cony a lot, and I guess he figured that I was a real Actionist convert. Well, when you grounded on Boondock, you caused quite a stir. The Lass was the biggest ship to visit Boondock in almost ten years. Hell, people were taking their kids out to the port to see the big ship. Albet was as excited as everybody else, maybe more so. Anyway, right after you grounded, he got a bit flashed, and started talking a little too much. In fact, he bragged that he was the one that had arranged for you to come, and that it had taken over a year, and that not even you knew that you were being manipulated to come to Boondock." She paused and looked questioningly at Jirik.

  Jirik shrugged. "It's possible, I guess. Hell , somebody ordered a big shipment of advanced Empire medical electronics, and offered premium rates for delivery. It could have been him. No ship much smaller than the Lass could have handled it. Did he say why he wanted to get us out here?"

  Via shook her head. "No," she replied, "but he was unhappy about your asteroid damage. I gathered that it spoiled some plan of his. Anyway, He wanted to know if I could conn a ship as large as the Lass. I told him that of course I could, that the only difference between navigating a rim tramp and an Empire liner was the complexity of the comps, which would let the liner make longer, safer jumps. Maybe I was bragging a little, since I'm not sure that I could handle the comps on a liner, but I knew I could handle the Lass. He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said that maybe I could do something important for the cause. I tried to find out what, but he must have realized how much he was talking, and he shut up. The next thing I heard was a few days ago. He called me, and wanted to know how quickly I could be ready to leave, if I had a ship. I told him a few hours, we passed some pleasantries, and he signed off. I wondered what the hell that call was about, but I kept my mouth shut. I was ready to jump at any chance to get back into space."

  Jirik was glowering. "That was before Valt was beaten. Are you sure that you didn't know about that in advance?"

  The heart-shaped elfin face registered dismay. "Captain, I swear! I didn't know anything about that until after it happened. Albet called me at about one in the morning, and said he had to talk to me right away. I didn't know what the hell was going on, but I told him to come over, got dressed, and made some coffee.

  Hell, I thought he'd had a sudden attack of the hornies, and I was trying to decide whether I wanted to go along with it. When Albet got there, he was excited as a kid. He said that my chance to do something important for the cause had come. He told me that your navigator had been beaten up in a bar brawl, and that you were going to need a navigator, fast. Then he said that you were going to smuggle some Actionist stuff back from Alpha, and that a lot of credits were involved, and that they needed someone to keep an eye on you and your crew to make sure that you didn't double cross them. He implied that he was afraid you'd grab the credits and run. He gave me some spy-eyes to hide around the ship. I told him that I didn't like the idea of spying on shipmates, and that in any case, if I got to the inner worlds, I damned sure wasn't coming back to the rim!

  He said that he understood that, and if I had anything to report, I should tape it and slip it into the shipment of books that you were bringing back from Alpha. I still didn't like it, but I was desperate to get off the rim, so I said I'd do it. Are you really smuggling for the Actionists, Captain? Frankly, you don't seem the type."

  Jirik flushed and grunted. "I'm not. Yeah, I'm smuggling, but I'm not going to talk about it. I have my own good reasons for doing it."

  "Well," Via said doubtfully, "I'm not going to ask. It's your business. Anyway, after I'd talked to you, I made up my mind that I wasn't going to spy on anyone for anyone. I guess I was starting to regain my senses. Then, when I heard the kid spout that Actionist propaganda, I knew that I had to tell you. I broke one of the big three rules, and I was embarrassed and guilty. I knew that I had to warn you that you may be messing in something too big for you, and that it could be dangerous." She rose, reached into her belt pouch, and pulled out a handful of pi
n-sized spy-eyes, throwing them on jirik's desk. "Do what you want with these, Captain. As far as I'm concerned, I'm going to sign off on Alpha, and try to book a berth headed as far from the rim as I can get. I don't want any more part of Atmos, or Actionists, or the rim." The thin lips beneath the turned-up nose were even thinner with disapproval.

  Discomfited, Jirik turned the subject to less sensitive areas. "Well, you're stuck with us until we get to Alpha. Will you need any help dealing with Tor?"

  Via smiled gently, but the blinding white teeth didn't show. The change of subject wouldn't affect her obvious disappointment at finding that Jirik was involved in smuggling, and without telling a crewman.

  "Teenage crushes are hell, aren't they?" she replied. "No, I don't think I'll need help dealing with it. He's an intelligent kid, and he has too much class to try something stupid. I'm sure that can handle it."

  Jirik nodded. "Well, if you do need help, just tell Bran or me. Tor's a good kid; he's just very impressionable. And," He added, "You are a very beautiful and exotic woman. At his age, I'd have been following you around with my tongue hanging out!"

  This time the teeth gleamed. "Well, thank you, Captain, but you're not that old. I'll be watching for your tongue hanging out. Don't worry. I know that it's just a case of raging hormones; I'll be as gentle as I can." Rounded hips swaying beckoningly, she sauntered from the cabin.

  Damn! Jirik thought, that's one helluva woman! If he were even a few years younger, his tongue would be hanging out! Too bad he'd had to make her think that he was the kind of man that would smuggle, and do so without telling his crew. He sighed.

  After Via left, Jirik sat for several minutes, lost in thought. She was right. He was much too deeply involved in something 'way over his head, and worst of all, political. He'd resigned his Navy commission after Januvia and become a spacer because spacers were strictly apolitical; and now, that damned Class I had dragged him into the middle of a situation that risked the lives of every person on the Lass.