The Rim Rebels

by Zellmann, William

  Jirik chuckled. "If you wanted our itinerary, why didn't you just ask? Our next port is Farout, then Outback, Border, Varner's World, Beyond, Yonder, Toolie, and finally Wayoff. All Right?"

  The agent nodded, and Jirik hurried back to the Lass. Less than an hour later, they lifted off.

  As soon as they were safely supralight, the crew gathered on the mess deck, as was their custom. Jirik recounted the entire story for Valt's benefit. He then played the recording of his last meeting with Tomys, and asked for opinions.

  Bran, as always, was cautious. "I don't know, Captain. He admitted that he can't force us to go along with this secret agent stuff. We could tell him to go do obscene things with himself."

  Jirik shrugged. "That's true, Bran. If I could be sure that we could keep ourselves alive on Wayoff, that's just what I'd tell him to do. But, his story makes sense. With the weapon specs we've brought, he can arm as many Rim Tramps as he wants to. He has no shortage of fighting ships. But without a C-and-C ship, they wouldn't be coordinated. An Alliance task force could cut them to ribbons.

  "Don't forget, it's over a century since Admiral Kedron defeated an Empire Battle group with rim tramps and asteroid boats. Both the Empire and Alliance militaries have been designing and refining techniques to combat those ships for all that time. Even so, with good C-and-C, a hundred or so armed Rim Tramps might still be able to give a Battle Group a good fight.

  "With C-and-C and a few good strategists and tacticians, I doubt that any force that the Alliance could muster could defeat them utterly. That would take nearly the entire Alliance Navy; and if they pulled that many ships from other sectors, then those sectors would be at risk. No, I think that Tomys has figured it out, and I think that this Cony character is getting some damned good strategic and tactical advice. Tor, what do you think?"

  Tor was still young enough to be impressed by intrigue and adventure. He was heartily in favor of playing along with Tomys. He was flushed with excitement.

  It was Valt who surprised Jirik. Since his return to the Lass, Jirik had noticed changes in the Astrogator. His ordeal seemed to have revealed heretofore-unseen depths in Valt. His mouth had assumed a grim hardness that had been absent in the shallow hedonist that had been their shipmate. He smiled less, and had become more serious in his attitudes and outlook. Now, when Jirik asked for his opinion, the change became obvious.

  "Those bastards tried to kill me," Valt replied in a tone whose viciousness shocked the others, "I want to kill them back." His formerly licentious grin was suddenly predatory. "And I won't just try," he continued. "I say let's do it. If they do try to kill me again on Wayoff, I'll be ready!"

  Jirik sighed. He hoped that Valt would get over it. The old Valt was shallow and hedonistic, but this one was dangerous. He made a mental note to talk with Valt as soon as possible. He'd known a few kill-crazy men in the Navy. The Navy tried to weed them out as soon as possible, and Jirik decided that he'd have to do the same if Valt's attitude was more than surface-deep. He and the others would have to pool their resources and buy out Valt's share. It wouldn't be cheap, but it would be better than to have a crewman for whom others' lives had little value. In the meantime, he reminded himself, Valt was a voting shareholder, and had voted.

  Jirik's two votes could swing the decision either way, but he preferred to have the crew reach a consensus. "Well, let's everyone think about it, and talk about it among ourselves. I doubt if Tomys will brace us for an answer on Farout, so we should have two supralight periods to decide. We'll call a vote before breakout at Outback."

  "One thing we will have to deal with on Farout," Bran interjected, "is Cony and his spies. I wouldn't be surprised if Cony wasn't on his way to Farout right now. Do we follow Tomys' suggestion and let him find out about Via's double-cross, then play dumb?"

  Jirik shrugged. "Does anyone have any other suggestions? I'm afraid that if we keep his agents off the Lass for too long, he'll get suspicious; and if he gets suspicious, we could get dead."

  Valt grinned that predatory grin. "Or someone else could!"

  Bran sighed wearily. "Give it a rest, Valt. As I recall, you're not exactly a warrior; but even if you were, the rest of us don't share your taste for blood."

  Valt's unsettling grin didn't slip. "Well, you might be surprised. I had a lot of time on my hands in the hospital. I've read over fifty volumes on weapons and combat techniques. Then, for physical therapy, I studied hand-to-hand and unarmed combat techniques. I also studied armed combat. I've qualified as 'Expert' with blaster, laser and needler. I'd just started with the vibroblade when you guys came back, but I'm familiar with the principles and tactics, and I'm practicing every day. I'm not the wimp that I was before."

  "Not on my ship, you're not!" Jirik thundered. His rage was obvious in his reddened features. "If you've got a vibroblade in your kit, I want it locked up with the other weapons! There's a good reason why personal weapons aren't permitted on board ship, and I'm not about to have you get pissed off at Bran, or Tor, or me, and slice one or all of us up! If that 'blade's in your kit, you get your ass to your cabin right now and bring it to me!"

  Valt's bravado wilted somewhat before Jirik's rage, but he began to protest. "Hell, Captain, I . . . '

  "Shut up!" Jirik roared. "I don't want to hear it. Get it. Now. Then, see me in my cabin in an hour! We've got to talk!"

  Valt rose and stamped out. With a visible effort, Jirik controlled his anger. Finally, as the silence began to lengthen, he said in a normal tone, "All right. The question remains, do we hinder Cony's men on Farout, or not?"

  Chapter 14

  Tor was staring openmouthed, stunned. When he noticed the others looking at him, he composed himself and said, "Uh . . . I d-don't see where we have a choice, sir. I mean, They're going to find out sooner or later. It might as well be sooner."

  Jirik nodded. "I agree. I think that we'll have to let them aboard on Farout. Just remember to play dumb about Via. She was nice enough, but kept to herself; that kind of stuff. They won't bother Valt, because he wasn't with us. It's the three of us that have to keep our fingers on our buttons.

  "Remember, these people aren't going to be wearing signs that say 'Terrorist'. They could be anyone; even a beautiful woman. A word of advice, Tor. If some woman suddenly finds you irresistable, be suspicious. In fact, watch out for anyone who's overly friendly."

  Bran sat up. "On the other hand, they may just decide that it's easier to kidnap one of us, and question him. If so, they'd probably find out everything, and we'd be in a lot of trouble."

  Tor was outraged. "I wouldn't talk!"

  Jirik smiled gently. "You mean that you wouldn't want to talk. Anyone can make anyone talk with the right drugs, or a brain scanner. Yes, I know, brain scanners are illegal. So are the drugs we're talking about. Do you think that that will stop Cony and his terrorists? I suggest that we all stay aboard as much as possible. If you must go into town, go in pairs, and check out a weapon before you go."

  Tor was'sputtering. "B-B-But you just told Valt . . ."

  "What I just told Valt," Jirik replied, "Was that I wouldn't permit personal weapons on board; and I won't. But, if anyone goes into town, they go armed, and to hell with local customs or laws. I'd rather bail you out of jail than identify your body at the Morgue. Can you handle any weapons?"

  "Not really," Tor replied, "Oh, we hunted with slugthrowers, but those were two-hand weapons, too big to conceal. I did do some target shooting with a hand needler."

  Jirik grunted. "Well, you stick with Bran or me. Or with Valt, evidently! Bran, are you as worried about Valt as I am?"

  Bran nodded'soberly. "I can't decide whether he's gone kill crazy, or is just vengeful. Either way, he could be as much of a danger to us as Cony and his terrorists! We may have to consider buying him out."

  Jirik nodded, but before he could reply, Valt stalked into the compartment and threw an ornate vibroblade on the table in front of Jirik. When inactivated, a vibroblade looked innocent enough, merely
an ornate cylinder some four to eight inches long. When a switch on the cylinder was pressed, however, a blade nearly the length of the handle was released, much as in the case of a common knife. This blade's thickness, however, measured only three millimeters at its thickest point. It's edge was measured in molecules, and was many times sharper than the razors still used for shaving on some backward worlds. A power cell caused the ultra sharp blade to vibrate vertically rapidly enough to produce a humming sound. It was said that a vibroblade could penetrate a man's body without the user feeling any resistance at all. Even severing a man's rib resulted in nearly undetectable resistance It was a killing weapon, pure and simple.

  "All right, Valt, "Jirik said in a emotionless tone. "If you insist on daily practice with this thing," he nudged the vibroblade gingerly, "You can check it out from me. Then, you can check it back in again after your practice session. You don't have a blaster or a needler with you, do you?"

  Valt had been staring at the deck, avoiding his shipmates' eyes. He shook his head curtly.

  "Good!" Jirik continued. "Now, we've decided that Cony will find out about Telson on Farout. I've warned the others, and now I'm warning you. Stay aboard as much as possible. If you must go into town, go armed, and don't go alone

  Valt's head jerked and he stared at Jirik. "But, I thought you said . . ."

  "I said," Jirik interrupted, "That I wouldn't permit weapons to be kept in your personal kit. I don't give a damn what kind of weapons you own, as long as you keep them locked in the weapons locker." He shrugged. "Hell, I like good weapons. I've got a pretty good collection in the weapons locker right now. I usually don't approve of going armed on civilized planets, either. But as long as any of us can be attacked by terrorist thugs at any time, I want every man to be able to defend himself. So, the order stands. If you go on-planet, go armed, and don't go alone."

  "If we can move along, Captain," Bran said pointedly, "We know that as soon as Cony finds out that there are no reports or spy-eyes, he's going to want to question one of us. We have to decide what we're going to do about it."

  Jirik sighed. "Yeah. Well, I guess Valt and me will have to go on-planet, and give them a shot at us."

  "No!" Bran's shout made all heads jerk in his direction. Jirik's face clouded, and he seemed about to explode.

  Bran hurriedly added, to forestall Jirik's eruption, "Sorry, Captain, but that just won't work. You've been speaking for the crew since we arrived on the rim. They know that you're an experienced negotiator, and therefore an experienced liar." His smile took the sting from his words. "If I were Cony, and I were already suspicious, the fact that I couldn't talk to any crewman but you would make me sure that we were up to something. No, if I were Cony, I'd want to talk to one of the other crewmen. That means me or Tor, since Valt was on Boondock all the time. Of the two, I'd pick Tor."

  Jirik's thundered "Tor?" and Tor's squealed "Me?" were simultaneous.

  Bran's nod was unperturbed by the reaction. "Think about it, Captain. You're a terrorist leader who has to find out what went wrong. There are two people that you can ask. One is an experienced, sophisticated spacer. The other is a teenager on his first voyage. Who would you prefer to ask?"

  Jirik sighed and nodded. "He's right, Tor. I'm afraid that you're going to have to stay on the Lass on Farout."

  But Bran was shaking his head, somberly. "Sorry, Captain, but that won't work, either. Oh, it's just possible that we might get by with it, but I doubt it. If you were Cony, wouldn't you find it suspicious if a youngster on his first voyage, visiting his third strange planet, spent the whole time aboard? I certainly would. No, I'm afraid that our best chance of convincing Cony is to let them talk to Tor."

  Jirik's face was thunderous. "I don't like it. The kid's not ready to handle this kind of intrigue!"

  Bran shrugged. "He'll have to be ready. I don't like it either, Captain; but all we can do is hope that he can handle it."

  "I can handle it!" Tor exclaimed excitedly. "Don't worry, Captain. Unless they use those drugs you mentioned, or a brain scanner, I won't tell them anything but the story that we agreed upon."

  Jirik's expression was grave. "I know that you'll try, Tor. But, what you need to understand is that, most likely, no one is going to be sitting you down and throwing questions at you. It's going to be either much more subtle, or much more brutal than that. You'll have to assume that anyone that you talk to is a terrorist. If you're lucky, it may be another teenager like yourself, or even a gorgeous girl fawning all over you. If you're unlucky, it may be a couple of husky thugs beating the stuffing out of you; and pain can be very persuasive."

  "I'll be with him, Captain," Bran volunteered. "And I'll be armed. If it's thugs, they won't take Tor easily."

  "I know that you're good, Bran," Jirik replied somberly. "I just hope that you're enough protection." Jirik turned to Tor, "I'm sorry, kid. Bran's right. I'm afraid that you're going to be on the firing line. I'd hoped that it wouldn't happen this soon."

  Tor straightened and preened. "I can do it, Captain. Trust me. I won't let you down."

  Jirik assured the young man of his confidence, but his obvious worry made his assurances seem hollow. His somber, preoccupied mood continued as they continued their discussions, though the plainly excited and confident Tor seemed not to notice.

  Jirik's black humor persisted for most of the jump period. His "talk" with Valt about weapons and vengeance did not go well. Valt seemed bent on turning himself into an instant warrior.

  Jirik had already begun considering ways to raise the capital to buy out Valt's share when, on the last ship's "day" before breakout, he happened across Valt practicing with his vibroblade and a needler in the partly empty hold that had been occupied by Boondock's share of the cargo.

  He stood for several moments, watching Valt's ungraceful efforts with the 'blade. He suddenly realized that this was the way to convince Valt, not by trying to reason with him. He went on into the hold and challenged Valt to some two-man practice.

  Valt first looked incredulous, then turned his head and noisily cleared his throat to cover what was obviously a pitying smile. "Er, Captain," he began, "I, uh, I'm not sure that's a good idea. I'm, uh, younger than you, and I've been practicing."

  "And I'm old, fat, and out of shape, right?" Jirik replied "Well, maybe so, Valt. But, I have been in a fight or two myself. Who knows, You might learn a few points."

  Valt was obviously reluctant, but at last permitted himself to be persuaded. Jirik returned to his cabin and retrieved some practice weapons that had been stored in the bottom of a trunk for years. Returning to the hold, he tossed a practice vibroblade at Valt, and then stripped off his tunic and boots. The men began circling cautiously.

  Suddenly, Valt charged clumsily at Jirik. Jirik ducked and swerved, and Valt dove past him, howling as Jirik's practice blade scraped his ribs. The practice weapons substituted a soft blade for the real weapon's lethal one, but the edges of that practice blade were charged, designed to stimulate the nerve endings in any part of the body that they touched. A practice blade left a slash of pain and an angry red welt in its wake.

  Jirik straightened and looked impassively at the astrogator, who was kneeling and hugging himself. Jirik shook his head "That won't do, Valt. If these blades were real, you'd be dead."

  Valt straightened painfully, flushing with annoyance and embarrassment. "Yeah, Well, Let's try it again!"

  As they circled cautiously, Valt kept a respectful eye on Jirik's blade. Suddenly, Jirik feinted with his knife hand. As Valt dodged frantically, Jirik slammed his other fist into the side of Valt's head. As the bigger man went to his knees, a surprisingly agile Jirik danced closer to the dazed Valt, and drew another line of agony across Jori's chest. Valt howled, and slashed madly with his blade, but Jirik was once again out of reach.

  "You're dead again, Valt!" Jirik noted. Valt remained silent crouched on the deck. Suddenly, he lunged from his crouch at Jirik, blade outthrust before him. Jirik dodged, and drew a
nother red welt across Valt's outstretched arm. Valt yelled in agony, and his blade clattered to the deck,

  Jirik smiled. "Want to try again, Valt?" Valt shook his head surlily, and Jirik continued, "I didn't do this to humiliate you, Valt. I'm trying to save your neck. I wanted to show you that you can't learn to fight from a book, and that solo practice isn't enough. I'm old, and fat, and out of shape, but I've been trained properly. You didn't stand a chance."

  Valt straightened painfully, cradling his red-welted arm. The three angry red welts stood out starkly against his white skin His face was flushed with anger. "I'll get better!" he vowed.

  Jirik nodded. "You will, if you practice. But, you'll have to practice regularly and properly! I don't know why people assume that skill with weapons is any easier to gain than any other skill. They seem to think that merely buying a weapon makes them a warrior. Sorry. It doesn't work that way. It's like thinking that buying a vibroharp means that you can give a concert."

  "The point is," Jirik continued, "that you're not ready to go looking for a fight; at least not with vibroblades. How are you at hand-to-hand?"

  Valt's anger had faded, to be replaced with a new respect for his captain. He shook his head. "Oh, no. You're not going to sucker me into that! I know your reputation as a brawler, remember?"

  Jirik shook his head. "No, Valt. You can't confuse a brawl with hand-to-hand combat. Sure, I brawl a lot, and have a helluva good time. But the man you need to see about hand-to-hand is Bran."

  "Bran?" Valt's tone was incredulous. "He hates fighting!"

  Jirik nodded. "That's right. He hates it, so he has learned more ways to disable an opponent fast than anyone I've ever met He's as fast as an Elyrian Jaqth, and utterly merciless. He's honestly confused by the term 'fair fight'. He says that the term 'fair' can only describe rules; and if it has rules, it isn't a fight, it's a sporting event. If it's a fight, there are no rules; only survival. If you really want to learn hand-to-hand, he's your man. But, I warn you, you'll end up wearing a lot of bruises, or maybe a broken bone or two. Bran plays rough!"