The Rim Rebels

by Zellmann, William

  Ideas flew thick and fast. One of them would bring up a suggestion, and the others would try to spot its weaknesses, Several more hours and many ideas had passed, and the conversation was running out when Tor hit the jackpot.

  "Captain," he cried excitedly, "We've been worrying about avoiding other traffic. What if we made them avoid us?"

  Jirik was tired and irritable. "What the hell're you talking about, kid?"

  "Well," the young man explained, "I just got to wondering how we could make sure that other ships would stay away from us. What if we activated the Plague Beacon?"

  Via snapped straight up in her chair. "Damn, Kid! If we emerge with the Plague Beacon running, We're liable to be blown out of the sky before we can even turn around!"

  "Look, Tor," she added in a more patient tone, "Nobody takes any chances with a plague ship. That's why the beacon's there in the first place! A ship with illness on board is supposed to be quarantined. Not allowed to land or dock, nobody comes off or boards until the sickness is over or the crew's dead."

  Bran was beginning to see Tor's idea. "Exactly. What's the usual procedure when a plague ship emerges?" He turned to Jirik.

  "I wouldn't call it 'usual'" Jirik growled. "It doesn't happen often enough. I've seen it twice, and it's not pretty. When a plague ship emerges, most other traffic scrambles to get well clear, in case the crew tries to disembark, or the ship has to be destroyed, or it self-destructs. Then the Guard, or the Patrol, or some representative of the system government puts picket boats around them to prevent contamination. Usually, the system will try to find out the symptoms, and give medical advice over the comm. But nobody approaches, and nobody disembarks. If they can't raise the crew on the comm, they destroy the ship. If they can raise at least one crewman, they'll usually insist that he jump out of the system or be destroyed, if the doctors can't identify the plague." He grimaced. "Occasionally, though, as Via says, they'll just blast her out of the sky as soon as she emerges. That doesn't happen often, but it has happened. It really pisses off the Alliance or the Empire, though, and any system that does it can suffer some heavy sanctions."

  "Wasn't the Pheria system embargoed for five years for that?" Bran inquired.

  "Yeah," Jirik replied, "It almost impoverished the system, and the system government was dissolved and reformed. They also set a new smuggling record. Generally, though, spacers honored the embargo. No one likes the idea that they might be blown up without a word if they have a problem."

  Via snorted. "A problem! Plagues have destroyed entire systems! Blasting a plague ship is the best way to handle it. You make sure that it can't pass the plague along. Besides, it's not easy to pass a death sentence on someone you've been talking to over the comm."

  "Well," Tor asked quietly, "What are the chances that they'd shoot first and ask questions later? What are the odds?"

  Jirik looked uncomfortable. "Well, despite Via's opinion, I'd say that the odds are about ninety-ten that they'd quarantine and talk. The biggest risk would be from a jittery picket boat gunner who thought he saw movement near the plague ship. I don't know, kid, maybe your idea would work, but I sure don't like it."

  "There's another problem," Bran pointed out. "As soon as we emerged with our plague beacon running, ships would be scattering, spreading the word that the Lass was a plague ship. Even if we could show that nobody was sick, Alpha might not believe us. They might refuse to let us land. That's happened before, too. Ships hounded from system to system, never permitted contact, until their fuel or supplies ran out, and the crew died.

  "Wait a minute," Jirik said, "What if we weren't the Lass? We faked our ident beacon before; we could do it again! We aren't the only DIN class ship operating as a trader. The Empire has sold thousands of them over the centuries. When we got to Alpha we could go back to the legal beacon, and no one would be the wiser!"

  The discussion dragged on and on. Finally, with Via still dissenting, and Jirik grudgingly acceding, a course of action was decided upon.

  "All right," Jirik summed up, "Here's the plan. At our next recal point, if we're not dodging pirates, Bran goes out to see if the dust from the nebula scoured off our name and registration number while Via is recalibrating. If the name and numbers are gone, we modify the ident beacon. When we emerge with the plague beacon running, Via takes over the comm at the command console. She tells them that she's the Astrogator, and all she wants to do is recalibrate and leave, and makes sure to tell them that she hasn't gotten sick. That should relieve some tension."

  "I still don't like it, skipper!" Via protested. "I don't like playing games with something like the plague beacon!"

  Jirik was sympathetic. "I know. I don't like it either. I feel as though I'm taking advantage of someone, though I'm damned if I know who. But, if we're going to make it to Alpha, I don't know of any other way."

  Via spent most of the next two ship-days in her cabin. She was sullen and uncommunicative for most of that time. Evidently, though, her self-imposed exile gave her a chance to think, and weigh options. The jump timer showed some six hours before emergence when she suddenly appeared at Jirik's cabin door.

  "I've been thinking, skipper," he announced without preamble "I'm still worried about somebody blowing us to atoms, but since we're going to do it, I think I've got a way to increase our chances, if you want to hear it."

  Jirik waved the woman into his cabin. "Tell me about it. I'm in favor of anything that makes this fiasco less risky!"

  Via sat down. "Well, if the nebula's dust did scour off our name and registration, at least to where it can't be read, there's no reason that, when we modify the ident beacon, we can't modify it to make us a non-human ship. As you said, thousands of these tubs have been sold, and a lot of them went to nonhuman races."

  Jirik nodded. "Yeah, but then how do we explain a human crewman talking on the comm?"

  "No problem," Velson replied, "There are a lot of humans serving on alien ships; especially astrogators. Many nonhumans can't handle human-made comps as well as humans can. It wouldn't seem strange. If we claim to be a nonhuman ship, maybe the fear of causing a diplomatic incident would keep some jittery gunner from blowing us out of the sky."

  "Yeah!" Jirik exclaimed. "Good idea. That would also help explain why you don't want medical advice from the locals. You could be trying to get the aliens back to their home system before they died! They might think that you were a fool for risking your life for a bunch of aliens, but chances are they wouldn't shoot, as long as you didn't try to disembark, and just wanted to recalibrate and leave. Yeah! I like it!"

  Via grunted. "I don't. But it looks like you're going to do this plague beacon thing anyway, and I want to do anything I can to get my furry ass to Alpha in one piece."

  Jirik grinned. "Well, we're only going to be trying it three times. With any luck, after the first one, the others will be warned by other ships from the first system, and the danger will be less."

  "Maybe," Via said doubtfully, "But I doubt it."

  Jirik had no chance to discuss Via's idea with Bran or Tor before they emerged at their next calibration point. Fortunately, the system was deserted, and remained that way while Via recalibrated to their revised course. Bran suited up and went outside to check on the readability of their name and registration number. When he returned, he told them that not only the name and number, but the entire ship's antirad hull coating was gone.

  "She shines like she's plated!" Bran reported. "Evidently the nebula's dust scoured off the coating, and polished the metal to a high gloss."

  "Good!" Jirik enthused, "That means that no one is going to recognize the old bitch. That may make it easier for us."

  "It also means that we're going to have to have her recoated as soon as we get to Alpha," Bran grumped. "Those hull plates rust in a heartbeat."

  Jirik shrugged. "It was worth it. It got us out of that situation at the last recal point, and it might help us again."

  Via completed her recalibration and reorientation,
and they jumped without incident, to everyone's fervent relief.

  Once they were safely supralight, Jirik assembled the crew to discuss their plans. He told Bran and Tor of Via's suggestion, which was enthusiastically received. Bran, however, had foreseen a possible problem.

  "Captain," he said, "With no hull coating and polished plates, we stick out like a Brachian's antennae. I'm sure that there aren't two polished ships cruising around the Empire. If we use our own ident beacon at our next five stops, and then show up somewhere else, claiming to be an alien, we're asking for trouble. I don't know about you, but I don't want to spend the next few years on a prison planet."

  "You're right." Jirik sounded worried. "We've got to do something, and we've got . . . " he glanced at his ring watch, "eighty-three hours to figure it out and do it. Anybody got any ideas?"

  Via shrugged. "I don't see the problem. We can fake up the alien ident beacon, and make sure that it says we're from a planet that's fairly distant, preferably one that has few ships. Most Planetary Guardsmen, and probably a lot of Patrolmen, will assume that ships from that planet are normally plated instead of coated. Then, we can always claim that the plague broke out while we were supralight, between the last guarded system and the first unguarded one."

  "Yeah," Tor agreed, "If we fake up the beacon now, and use it at all the rest of the recal points, we'd be a lot safer."

  "That might do it," Jirik replied, "Bran, what do you think?"

  Bran shrugged. "It's as good a chance as any. I say we do it."

  "All right," Jirik decided, "Tor, you and Via work out a good alien planet and fake up the ident beacon. Bran, when we emerge, I want you to modify our exhaust traces; Nonhumans would probably have modified the reaction drives to suit them. I'm going to try to rig the parts of the bridge visible on the comm to look more alien, just in case someone wants to talk to us."

  By the time they were ready to emerge, the crew had taken every precaution that they could think of. The ident beacon now revealed them to be the K'laakriit, of K'jinnthian registry. K'jinnth was a planet halfway to the far edge of the Empire. It was not a wealthy world, and had fewer than 50 ships of all types. It would be easy to believe that the K'jinn had purchased a worn-out DIN Class freighter and refurbished her. During the rest of the jump, the crew endlessly discussed their charade, adding details and anticipating contingencies.

  As the jump timer clicked off the final hours, Jirik had to caution Bran and Tor to relax several times. Inevitably, though the tension built.

  They emerged without incident. There was moderate traffic, but no one seemed unduly interested in the alien freighter, and no other ships approached near enough to alarm the crew. When the recalibration had been completed, and they maneuvered to their next jump point, Jirik was amazed to find that he was disappointed. As soon as they jumped, Tor made it clear that the captain wasn't the only one to feel that way.

  "That was just boring!" the young man exclaimed, "I thought it would be more exciting than that!"

  Via chuckled. "You sound like you wish someone had jumped us."

  "Well, no," Tor replied in a confused tone, "Not really, But . . ."

  Jirik laughed aloud. "Don't try to explain, Kid," he replied as the others' heads turned toward him, "I think we all understand. After all our plotting and planning, it's a bit of a letdown to have no one seem to notice us."

  "Really?" Via put in, "Well, I hope that all the rest of the recal points are as easy. The trouble is, I'm afraid that they won't be!"

  Via's fears went unrealized for the next four jumps. The farther in toward Alpha that they emerged, the more cosmopolitan the systems became. Alien vessels were no novelty this far inside the Empire, and they attracted no noticeable attention. The crew began to relax, and the voyage became routine, though Jirik constantly reminded himself that he was aboard the K'laakriit, and not the Lass.

  Meanwhile, Tor's infatuation showed no signs of letting up. He followed Via everywhere, trying desperately to monopolize her attention. The situation peaked when Via's only escape from Tor's constant presence became taking refuge in Jirik's cabin, where the conversations begun before the first jump had continued daily.

  Via finally took Tor into her cabin and tried to tactfully discourage the young man. Her efforts met with little success; Tor moped about with an injured air for a few ship-days, then began once again to intensify his inept courtship. Via was finally forced to call in the Captain, though she cautioned him to be gentle with the lovestruck young man.

  Jirik didn't relish the job. He was sensitive to the emotional turmoil of first love. He was also painfully aware that tact and gentility were not his long suit. Complicating Jirik's problem was the fact that he was himself becoming very attracted to Via. Her visits to his cabin and their long, rambling conversations had become the high point of Jirik's days. This added a feeling of hypocrisy to Jirik's already confused state. As Captain, however, he knew that protecting a crewmember from the unwelcome attentions of another crewmember was his responsibility, and he took his responsibilities very seriously.

  When the teenager entered Jirik's cabin in response to his summons, Jirik sensed immediately that Tor would not make his task easy. Tor's body was tensed, and his attitude belligerent.

  "This is about Via, isn't it?" the boy demanded in a surly tone.

  "Yeah," Jirik replied, "Son, you've got to leave her alone. You're forcing unwelcome attentions on her, and she doesn't have to tolerate that. I warned you about this before Via came aboard. Now I'm making it an order. Leave Via Telson alone."

  Tor leaped to his feet. "I won't! I love her, and someday she's going to love me, too! You said that emotional relationships between two crewmembers were their own business, so you can't order me to give her up!"

  Jirik clamped down on his rapidly rising temper. "If it were between the two of you, I wouldn't interfere; but it isn't. It's all on one side: yours. From her point of view, you're harassing her!"

  "She didn't say that!" Tor exclaimed. "She wouldn't! She's so wonderful, so beautiful . . ." his voice trailed off into confusion.

  Jirik's stony expression softened. Damn! this was even harder than he'd thought it would be. "I know, kid. But you have to leave her alone. All our lives depend on her doing her damnedest to get us through. You're irritating her and distracting her; and we need her at her absolute best."

  Tor's expression had become wounded. "But I love her!" he wailed. His face hardened. "Don't think I don't know what's going on You think that you can order me to leave her alone so that you can have her all to yourself!"

  "Sit down!" Jirik snapped. "You're acting like a fool! What's wrong with you?"

  Tor's hardened expression dissolved into despair. He was nearly in tears. "But I love her!" he repeated softly.

  Jirik nearly turned away from the naked misery on the young man's face. "I know you do, Tor. But she doesn't love you. She likes you very much, but not in a romantic way. I'm really very sorry. I know that this hurts, and I'm not having a bit of fun myself."

  Tor's agonized eyes fixed on his captain. "She really asked you to make me leave her alone? Really?"

  Jirik nodded. "She really did. I'm very sorry, Tor.

  As the boy rose dejectly to his feet, Jirik continued, "Tor, leave her alone. If she ever comes to return your love, she'll come to you." His face hardened with renewed resolve. "Meanwhile, I want you to leave her alone. Remember what I told you before she came aboard. And one other thing; If she should become involved with anyone else, there will be no immature jealousy. Is that clear?"

  Tor nodded wordlessly and left the cabin, his entire being a picture of misery and dejection. Jirik felt like hell.

  Chapter 10

  The fifth recal point was the one that all of them had been dreading. This was the first system without either a Planetary Guard or a Patrol presence, and therefore the one at which they were going far outside interstellar law. So far, they were guilty only of showing an improper ident beacon; a felony,
but one which they had at least a chance of explaining away. Now, however, they were going to use a false plague beacon, an offense which could net them all years on a prison planet; and their explanation would buy them no sympathy from any judge in human-settled space. It was therefore unsurprising that the tension began to build as the jump timer ticked patiently toward emergence.

  As the last minutes ticked away, Jirik had Tor activate the plague beacon and fake ident beacon, and reminded Bran to alter the drive traces. Then he abandoned the command chair to Via. It had been decided that only one human crewmember should be seen on board, and prudence demanded that it be the Astrogator, as she was best equipped to handle any technical discussion that arose. Tor slaved all the comm circuits to the command console, then he and Jirik stepped outside the bridge hatch, taking no chances that they might be seen.

  Bare seconds after they emerged, Via's sensor screens showed six blips, all headed at max acceleration away from the Lass. No one seemed anxious to be near, or even to talk to, a plague ship. After a few minutes, Via began her jump calculations, hampered by the inadequate computer access of the command console. Nearly half an hour passed before the expected challenge came.

  "Plague Ship K'laakriit! Plague ship K'laakriit! Do you understand Galacta?" blared from the comm screen. This demand was followed by screeching and growling, evidently an attempt to translate the question into K'jinnth.

  Via activated the comm. "This is K'laakriit. I'm human, and understand Galacta."

  Before she could continue, the blaring voice shouted, "Do not attempt to approach any planet of this system, or you will be destroyed. Do not attempt to exit your ship, or you will be destroyed. You are ordered to kill all motion relative to this system's primary, and stand by. Picket boats will be placed around you, with orders to destroy you if you attempt unauthorized maneuvers. Do you understand?"

  Via activated the steering jets, counteracting all residual motion relative to the system's sun. "Understood," She replied crisply, "I have complied. All relative motion has been canceled."