By playing the straight, tough-talking mercenary, Jirik hoped to convince the terrorists that he couldn't he doing anything very devious. Tor, by playing up to their beliefs, might be able to make them less watchful of him. And, as long as they had hopes of converting Bran to their philosophy, they'd probably be more considerate of him, which might allow him to stretch the limits of their tolerance without repercussion.
Slightly over two hours later, a muffled clang announced that Cony's magnetic suit boots had grabbed onto the hull. Tor and the talkative guard went to cycle him through the personnel lock.
When they returned, they were accompanied by Cony and two other men, whom Cony introduced merely as his astrogator and comm expert, giving no names. Both of the men were carrying equipment. As the rest of the group headed for the bridge, Cony motioned Jirik to stay behind.
"All right, Captain," Cony began, "It's time for some straight talk. I don't trust you, of course. Not yet."
Jirik nodded. "Naturally. I didn't expect otherwise. So, what do we do now?"
Cony returned Jirik's nod. "My astrogator has the target stars' coordinates, but he's not confident of his ability to handle your nav comp. So, he'll give your astrogator the coordinates, and watch him carefully as he programs the jumps. I'd suggest that your man not try anything fancy. Meanwhile, my comm expert will be sweeping to detect any transmissions from the ship. Once we leave the Wayoff system, he will disable to ship's ident beacon. There will be two short jumps before we line up on our base's system. When we break out in the target system, my man will take over the comm, and transmit our coded clearances."
"What kind of place is your base?" Jirik asked.
Cony's eyes narrowed. "I don't think that you need to know until we get there. Why do you ask?"
Jirik sighed resignedly, looking Cony in the eye. "Because I need to know that you haven't overestimated the old bitch's capabilities," he replied. "One of the reasons that you wanted a DIN-Class ship was because she could land, right?" Cony nodded, and Jirik continued, "Well, she can't just land any damn where. I need to know that your base isn't on some asteroid with almost no gravity, where we'd be better in orbit; or on some planet with really rough surface conditions, where she could get blown over, or hulled."
Cony nodded. "It's a medium-sized moon circling a gas giant. It has no atmosphere, and 0.2G gravity. Is that enough?"
Jirik grinned. "Fine. We'll have no problem grounding on a moon like that. Then what happens?"
Cony grinned back. "You sit on your asses for awhile, while we bring in and install the weapons and C & C gear. As the stuff is installed, your crew will learn to handle it. I doubt that you'll be bored. For security reasons, your fuel will be drained while you're grounded, and guards will be posted aboard. Perhaps by the time that everything's ready, there will be no need for such precautions; but for the present, I'm taking no chances. By the way, from this point until further notice, your crew's contact with each other will be monitored, as well. Don't plan any furtive crew meetings. One of us will be with each of you nearly all the time. Please warn your crew not to do anything to arouse our suspicions."
Jirik nodded. "That doesn't surprise me. We'll be careful.Any idea how long the refit will take?"
Cony shrugged. "The battle comps and comm gear have already been manufactured, and are sitting in a warehouse on Yonder. I've already sent word to begin shipping them to the base. The weapon specs that you brought are on their way to Border. Once they're built, they'll be shipped to the base as well. I'd say six to nine months for the refit itself, and then another three or four in familiarization and drills." He grinned sourly. "We'll have plenty of time to get to know each other. By the time she's finished, we'll either trust each other, or you'll be dead." His voice was flat, emotionless
Jirik's answering grin was knowing. "I assumed that, though I thought you'd be more tactful than to mention it
"I'm being honest, Captain," Cony replied. "From now on, there will be no lies between us. If we're to trust each other, honesty is vital."
Jirik nodded. "Accepted. When do we leave?"
"As soon as you can get clearance from Traffic Control to break orbit," Cony replied. "Please be careful, Captain," he continued, "I need you, and I really want to be able to trust you. But if you or your crew give me any cause to doubt you, please believe that I will have you killed immediately. Too much is at stake for me to take chances with you."
Jirik sighed. "You know, threats bore the hell out of me. In case you're planning any more, let's just take them as said, and get on with the business at hand."
They went up to the bridge. At Cony's nod, Tor called Traffic Control, requesting clearance to break out of orbit and maneuver toward the edge of the system for jump. It took several hours for the Lass to maneuver to her jump point, during which Valt and the terrorist astrogator worked busily at the nav comp. Finally, all was in readiness, and the Lass jumped on the first leg of her voyage to the terrorist base.
The first jump lasted only some sixteen hours, convincing Jirik that they were still in rim space when they broke out. Jirik took advantage of the jump period to warn each of the crewmembers about their inability to meet each other in private. The crew were obviously on edge, hoping fervently that Tomys' scheme for following them would work. It took Valt and the other astrogator over four hours to set up the next jump, due to Valt's fumbling and misprogramming. Jirik assumed that Valt was stalling, since he was a much better astrogator than that; but he hoped that Valt didn't carry it too far, and arouse Cony's suspicions.
When Cony did comment on Valt's ineptness, Jirik merely replied indifferently that the crew was well aware that their lives were at stake, and that they were nervous as a result. Cony seemed to accept this, but he began watching the crew thoughtfully. When they had jumped on the second leg, Valt apologized to Jirik for the delays, ascribing his mistakes to edginess. Cony, who was listening, nodded slightly, and Jirik tried to jolly Valt a bit, while including a veiled warning against stalling too much.
The second jump lasted less than ten hours, during which the crew and their 'guests' tried to get some sleep. When the breakout alarm sounded, however, all aboard were at their stations. Valt and the terrorist astrogator began work at once and, slightly over three hours later, they jumped again, on the final leg of their trip to the terrorist base. The final jump lasted some twelve hours, and the already-obvious nervousness of the crew had reached a fever pitch.
All of them, even the usually cheerful Tor, were irritable. Bran, usually imperburbable, got into a shouting match with his Boondocker guard, which had to be broken up by Jirik and Cony. The sulky Valt exploded at a jibing remark from his terrorist counterpart, and was enthusiastically pummeling the man when he was tackled by one of the Boondockers. Jirik and Cony were kept busy jumping from one fracas to another, until they called a joint crew meeting and let both sides vent their spleens. Cony's assurances of their safety failed to reassure the crew, though they seemed to enjoy the dressing-down that he gave the terrorists. Slightly mollified, they reacted better to Jirik's attempts to calm them and relieve the tension.
When the others had left, Cony said, "We can't go on this way, Captain! We can't have them at each other's throats for months!"
Jirik grunted. "My crew is scared. What did you expect? All you've done since we joined you is threaten us. Hell, you think that they don't know that you've planted spy-eyes all over the ship, and that they can't even go to the head unobserved? You've been treating us like Alley agents ever since you came aboard! You know as well as we do that even if we were Alley agents, we couldn't have had contact with anyone since we left Wayoff.
"What the hell do you think we're going to do? Stage an armed mutiny? What good would that do? Even Valt has no idea where the hell we are! I think that you'd better lighten up, before they decide that you're going to kill them anyway, and that all they can do is take some of you with them. You'd better decide whether you want our cooperation or our fear. You ca
n't have both!"
Chapter 17
Cony looked uncomfortable. "You can't expect us to trust you, yet. For all we know, you are Alley agents!"
Jirik sat forward, his face inches from Cony's. "You damned fool!" he snarled, "What the hell could we do if we were? Sure, you have to take a few precautions; but you're getting carried away with them! Once we jumped from Wayoff, even you have to know that there was no way to pass any supposed information that we could have gathered! And, until we lift from this base of yours and break out in an inhabited system, there's no threat of us being able to do so. What are you afraid of? Do you think we're going to sabotage the Lass, or something? Why don't you quit playing at Superspy and grow up! You'll get a lot more cooperation from us by treating us as spacers, not spies!"
Cony looked thoughtful, but before he could reply, the Breakout alarm sounded, and the two hurried to the bridge. Tor and Valt had been replaced at their stations by their terrorist counterparts, and both were standing, looking uncomfortable, though Valt was surveying his replacement's battered countenance with an air of satisfaction.
Jirik took his place at the command console just as they broke out. The system itself was something of an anticlimax, a typical rim system of a smallish red star. The system contained only three gas giants and a scattering of asteroids. No one would give a system like this one a second glance, except possibly as a recal point. Amateurish they may be, but at least the terrorists had selected a good hideout. The terrorist astrogator and Comm Officer were engaged busily, but until they were ready to ground, Jirik could relax. The middle gas giant was the one that they approached. Just inside a thin asteroid belt, it had over twenty moons. The terrorist astrogator identified the target moon, and then vacated his console to Valt, so it was Jirik and Valt who plotted the final approach and landing. The base was unimpressive; merely a small collection of rigid storage huts and inflatables, held rigid in the airlessness by the atmosphere that they contained.
"This is your base?" Jirik asked incredulously, "You really think that you're going to refit the Lass here?" He snickered. "Damn, It'll take years! You don't have the facilities, the equipment, or the personnel."
Cony looked nettled. "It has been sufficient so far, Captain. We didn't need more. Now, however, we do. Don't worry. Arrangements have been made. Within a week, two at most, several shiploads of inflatables, equipment, and workmen will arrive.'
"So, we just sit on our asses until then?" Jirik commented acidly.
"Exactly," Cony replied stonily. "You'll sit on your asses while we drain your fuel and search your ship." He shrugged. "Enjoy the leisure. You won't get much once the stuff starts arriving."
Jirik snorted. "I don't think that we realized that we were hooking up with just a two-minim gang of fanatics. How many of you are there, anyway? A dozen? Twenty? Fifty?"
Cony's expression remained stony. "You're making a foolish assumption based on appearances. Do you really think that a few dozen fanatics could have come up with a hundred thousand credits in cash on short notice to fund your smuggling mission? Do you really think that a few scattered conspirators could have had battle comps made? You're not that stupid, Captain. Why are you trying to provoke me?"
Jirik shrugged. "Maybe to see if I could. Maybe to help me judge just how many resources you do have." He grinned. "All right, we're down. While your crew is pumping out the fuel, how about searching the crew quarters first, so we can get some sleep? Then, you and your people can crawl around the Lass until your heart's content!"
Cony had evidently been paying attention to Jirik's complaints, because the security precautions did lighten up and become less obtrusive once the fuel had been drained and the ship searched. Except for the spy-eyes scattered throughout the Lass, Cony left the crew to their own devices. The terrorists moved into the base.
Naturally, the crew began searching out the spy-eyes, and plotting their areas of coverage, searching for "dead zones" where they could talk unobserved. Within a day they had found several "dead" areas, though only one, in Engineering, was large enough to conceal the actions and words of the entire crew. With hurried words individually with each crew member in the smaller dead zones, Jirik had urged extreme care in avoiding the spy-eyes. "Don't appear to be avoiding them," he explained. "We don't want to make these paranoid bastards even more suspicious, or they'll come back aboard and plug the holes!"
That "night", when the lights were off and the spy-eyes' efficiency at its minimum, the crew sneaked from their quarters one by one, and, hugging the "dead zones", made their way to Engineering. Each of them breathed a huge sigh of relief at finally being able to talk to each other without being overheard.
"Well, Captain," Valt asked, "What now? What do we do?"
Jirik looked worried. "Deity, Valt, I don't know. When they drained our fuel, they tied our hands. It looks to me like it's all up to that Tomys bastard. I sure hope that his idea works!"
"I dunno, Captain," Bran put in, "I think you've done well so far. You've gotten Cony to pull off his guards, and leave us to ourselves, except for the damned spy-eyes, of course. I don't think that we can just sit here and wait to be bailed out. We've got to do something!"
Jirik shrugged. "All I did was talk some sense to him. Luckily, he was smart enough to recognize it when he heard it." He sounded indifferent, defeated.
"Damn it, Captain! This isn't like you!" Bran's tone became savage. "You've always been a fighter. You never give up. Why the deity should you give up now? Think, dammit!"
Jirik jerked as if he'd been slapped. His face reddened, and he seemed ready to make an angry retort. Then, suddenly, the anger faded, as did his defeated air. "You're damned right, Bran I'm not going to let a gang of two-minim fanatics beat us!"
"All right," he barked. "Let's analyze our assets. First, we're in the Lass, and none of those bastards can get to us without suiting up. What else do we have on our side?"
Bran looked relieved. "That's better! Captain, do you know if they cleaned out the weapons locker?"
Jirik jerked again. Excitement crept into his face and tone "Damn! How did I overlook that? No, I'm sure they didn't. They didn't get the key from me, and if they'd broken into it, the alarm would have sounded. Damn, we've got enough weapons and ammo to arm a couple of platoons, anyway!"
"We could use a couple of platoons," Valt put in sourly.
Tor looked confused and suspicious. "Uh, Captain? Uh, How do you figure that they forgot about the weapons? I mean, you'd think that the weapons would be the first thing they'd look for. Maybe they're just setting a trap!"
Jirik looked thoughtful. "Maybe, but I doubt it. It's a little hard to spring a trap quickly when you have to climb into a space suit first." He shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe these rimmers don't have arms aboard their tramps. Or, maybe their skippers just don't advertise them to government bureaucrats, even Ministers of Trade. Governments get weird ideas about weapons. I guess they're scared of them, 'cause they're always trying to take them away from everybody but themselves. No spacer talks much about having weapons aboard, but every ship has them, especially if it's small enough to ground. But I suspect that even the orbit-to-orbit ships have weapons aboard. Let's face it if You're grounding on a strange planet, weapons are good insurance!"
Bran snorted. "Editorialize later! We have to decide what to do!"
Jirik nodded. "All right. We have a ship that can be sealed and personal weapons. Now we have to find out about the opposition. I want to know how many of these assholes there are, and estimates of their fighting readiness. I also want to know about the base. Start getting friendly. If anybody asks, tell 'em you're bored, and you're just looking around. They might saddle you with a guard, but as long as they hope to 'convert' us, I don't think they'll get nasty. Now, we can't afford any more of these all-crew meetings. They're too risky. I'll talk to each of you individually in one of the smaller dead zones each day. All right?"
The others nodded, and the meeting adjourned. One by one they cr
ept back to their cabins.
Bran was the first to announce, for the benefit of the spy-eyes, that he was bored and was going to suit up and "visit the neighbors." Tor loudly decided to accompany him. Jirik busied himself trying to find a way to get into the weapons locker unobserved, while Valt did his daily exercises, and then stomped about the ship discontentedly. Finally, Jirik lost patience, and ordered Valt to suit up and get the hell off the ship for a while.
Bran and Tor returned within a couple of hours. Jirik and Bran wandered toward Engineering with seeming aimlessness. Finally, they reached the Engineering dead zone
"There are sixteen of them, total," Bran reported, "but they seem to be stationkeepers. 'Back-area troops', if you know what I mean. All of them are carrying needlers, but most of them are self-conscious and awkward about it. I'd say that, except for the two Boondocker guards, they're not used to carrying weapons.
Jirik nodded. "That probably means that they're not very good with them."
"Right," Bran agreed. "Most of them are techs of various sorts, so I doubt that they'd be very good fighters. The most dangerous of them are probably the two Boondockers bodyguarding Cony."
Jirik nodded again. "How did they react to your visit? Were they suspicious?
Bran grinned. "They were glad to see us. They've been rotating crews every six months, and these guys have been here five. They were almost pitifully glad to see new faces." He chuckled. "They gave us the grand tour. Introduced us to everybody, showed us everything."
"What about the base?"
Bran shrugged. "Three rigid plascrete huts and three inflatables clustered in a tight circle around another rigid hut that serves as a Command Center. There's also an unpressurized cave about a hundred meters from the base that they use for storage. We couldn't get in there without looking suspicious, so we didn't try.
The Rim Rebels Page 29