"Then what?" Bran wanted to know. "Do you still think that you can track a ship through supralight?" His tone was sarcastic.
Tomys, though, merely nodded. "My experts think that we might just pull it off." He pulled a small case from his tunic and opened it, revealing a pellet about five millimeters in diameter. Hair-fine wires protruded a centimeter or so from the pellet.
"I want you to wire this between the astrogation comp and the command console. It's a compact but very powerful transmitter. When the final course and jump data are transmitted from the astrogation comp to the command console, this little gadget will intercept it, and retransmit it on a frequency that your equipment won't detect."
"Now," he continued, "I have a Fleet Courier standing by whose comps have been programmed to accept the transmitted data, modify it enough to permit breakout beyond your sensor range, and jump based on your transmission. I also have a Battle Cruiser standing by, with a full battalion of Marines. Right now, it's cruising just beyond the rim of Wayoff's system, busily avoiding detection. When I receive your data, I'll copy it into a beacon, which I'll drop and activate before I follow you. The Cruiser will program it's own jump, based on your data. At each recal point, I'll do the same thing. With any luck, I'll only be an hour or so behind you, and the Cruiser will couple of hours behind me."
"I see a couple of problems," said Bran. "First, I can't imagine them letting us go back to the Lass unescorted; and I can't imagine the escorts letting me install that thing. Second I doubt that they'll depend on just the Lass' detectors. I imagine that they'll be carrying detectors that will monitor a lot of other frequencies; I know that I would, and I doubt that they're much stupider than me. Third, we don't know enough about Supralight. How do you know that if you jump an hour after us, you'll arrive at the recal point an hour after us? You might get there after we've gone, or even before we arrive. One of the reasons that we know so little about supralight is the strange results that experiments like yours have revealed. All we really know is that when you mess with Supralight, the results are unpredictable. Fourth, I think that I'd better warn you that the Lass' detector array has been enhanced. When we were dodging pirates, we wanted to see them before they saw us. I doubt if our guards will let me mess with them, either."
"Whew!" Tomys exclaimed admiringly, "I thought you said 'a couple of problems'! I'll take them one by one. First, about installing the gadget. Does your astrogator know enough to disable the astrogation comp without doing serious damage? I understand that he's not exactly the galaxy's brightest light."
Jirik was irritated by Tomys comment. "Valt is a good man," he replied, "And, yes, he knows his nav comp intimately. But, how can we get word to him? I gather that the next time he sees us, we'll be accompanied by guards. He won't have a chance to disable anything!"
The agent grinned. "No problem, Captain. I've got a tightbeam transmitter here. All we have to do is scan for the Lass' ident signal to locate her, and then you can simply call him and tell him. Is there any chance that he knows enough to remove the enhancements from your sensor array?"
Bran shook his head. "No way. You'd better plan on increasing the distance that you've programmed into your Courier's astrogation comp."
Tomys shrugged. "Oh, well. Now, about your second concern. I'm sure that your guards will have detectors to monitor transmissions from the Lass. But they won't have detectors that can monitor these transmissions. I can't tell you why. For one thing, it's so highly classified that I don't know. I do know that no usual detector can detect these transmissions, not even the military's equipment."
"Your third point is well taken. Supralight is the one unpredictable factor. All that my experts can give me is reasonable assurance that I'll arrive within two to three hours either way. If I break out and the Lass isn't around, I'll simply wait a few hours to see if you show up. If you don't, and I can't catch up with the transmission by scooting around the system we're all out of luck!"
Jirik snorted. "Who do you think you're kidding? You're not going to catch up with the transmission; it's traveling at lightspeed!"
Tomys eyed him calmly. "I was talking about microjumping, Captain. Even at lightspeed, the transmission will take several hours to traverse a decent-sized system. Once I decide that you've been and gone, I'll set up a series of microjumps in hopes of catching up with the transmission."
Bran shuddered. "You're crazy! You'll end up inside a planet, or a star! Can't you think of easier ways to commit suicide?"
Tomys answering smile was grim. "I'm well aware of the risks. But those risks are justified by the chance to avoid a civil war."
Bran wasn't satisfied. "And, what happens if you can't pick up the jump data?"
Tomys shrugged. "Then you're on your own. If we haven't arrived within several days after you get there, you'll just have to try to make your own way out. Our agents are trying to get the coordinates by other means, of course, but there are no guarantees."
Jirik whistled. "Well," he replied, "At least you're as willing to risk your own life as you are ours." He sighed deeply then continued briskly, "All right. We don't have much choice but to do it; but I want some guarantees. The Lass is the only asset that we have, and it seems that you're about to put her on the firing line between fanatic terrorists and a battalion of Marines. I want your promise, in writing, that the Alliance will pay for repairs of any damage she receives, or even replacement, if she's destroyed. A Battle Cruiser's weapons aren't famous for their finesse!"
"That's no problem, Captain," Tomys replied with a smile, "The Council gave me carte blanche, remember?" He recorded the demanded guarantee. Jirik concealed the memory crystal carefully in his shoe.
"And," Tomys added, "I give you my personal word that if the Lass is destroyed, I'll see to it that you receive a brand new DIN Class Combat Hauler, fresh off the ways, in return. You see, I really do appreciate what you're doing, even though I know that you have little choice."
Bran snorted. "What makes you think that we'd want a new hull? It would be sure to be loaded with bugs in every system! No, if you get the Lass destroyed, I'd rather have one with a few years on it!"
Jirik elbowed the tall Engineer. "Sorry," he told the agent, "Bran's a perfectionist, and he doesn't have a lot of respect for shipyard workers, especially military ones." He glared at Bran. "But, I appreciate your offer, anyway. The old bitch is nearly a century old. We've started patching patches!"
Tomys laughed. "Well, let's just say that I'll see to it that you get whatever you want. Right now, we'd better get started. If you disappear for too long, Cony will get suspicious." He walked over to a cabinet beneath the holovid, which swung out to reveal an impressive comm system. Using what Jirik could remember of the Lass' orbital data, Tomys scanned for the ship. In less than a minute Tomys pronounced himself satisfied that he could maintain an untappable contact with the crewmen aboard, at least until the Lass passed over the horizon which, luckily, would not be for several hours yet.
Valt and Tor were relieved and excited to hear from their Captain. He gave them a short summary of occurrances so far, and what they were expecting. Valt was certain that he could render the Astrogation comp inoperative in such a way that it would take the Engineer to repair it.
Just to be certain, however, Bran gave him ten minutes of detailed instructions, which he accepted in a manner that gradually became exasperated.
"All right!" he finally replied in a tone that revealed his irritation. "I know what to do. I'll get on it right away."
"Captain!" Tor called before Valt could sign off, "Just a drill. What's the word?"
Jirik glanced at Tomys before replying. "'Slingshot. Don't worry, kid, I won't forget."
"Yes, sir," the boy replied. "I was just checking. Good luck, Captain!"
"That kid seems pretty sharp," Tomys commented after they signed off.
"Yeah," Jirik replied. "Well, shall we get on with it?"
Tomys nodded, and they returned to the ground cab. Jirik asked
the agent to drop them off at the Guild Office, to deposit Tomys' written guarantee.
Tomys shook his head. "No. I'm going to drop you off at the Market of the Rim. I want you to walk around a bit, familiarize yourself with it, then catch another cab to the Guild, or wherever else you want to go. Don't forget, Cony's going to want to know where you've been since we lost his tail. When he asks, tell him that you've been wandering around the Market. If he tracks down this cab, that's where the regular driver is going to them that he dropped you." As he stopped speaking, he guided the cab to the curb in front of the huge Market of the Rim. As soon as Jirik and Bran exited the cab, Tomys pulled the cab away without a word.
Bran commented, "I'm not sorry to see him go!"
Jirik chuckled. "Yeah, well, before too long we may be praying for him to show up!" They went inside and wandered for nearly an hour.
The Market of the Rim was an impressive place, A huge pavilion covering nearly a square mile, and all devoted to trade. Its first floor was a maze of small stalls selling goods from all over the rim, Alliance and Empire; everything from food to heavy mining equipment could be purchased somewhere in the Market. The second floor of the immense structure was occupied by the offices of shipping agents, wholesale distributors and trading factors. The place was fascinating, and Jirik and Bran could pull themselves away only with difficulty. Bran suggested that they purchase some small items, as substantiation of their story. Finally, they tore themselves away, and caught a cab to the Guild office, where Jirik deposited Tomys' written guarantee.
As they left the Guild office, Jirik noticed the same man who had earlier passed him the terrorist's note, excitedly talking on a public vidphone. He nudged Bran. "Here we go!" he commented. Bran nodded. They began strolling unconcernedly down the street.
They had gone only some two blocks when three men whose strength and heavy builds marked them as heavyworlders, probably from Boondock, jumped out of a parked groundcar and hustled the two men into the rear compartment. For a brief moment Jirik afraid that Bran might resist, but he needn't have worried. Bran's objections were only vocal and appropriate for an unsuspecting spacer kidnapped in broad daylight.
One of their assailants took a seat facing them, while the other two climbed into the front. The man facing them brandished a needler, since the groundcar's polarized canopy made concealment unnecessary. None of the three deigned to answer Jirik's frantic questions, and the one.in the back finally told him to shut up.
The remainder of the ten-local-minute trip was made in silence. Finally, the car came to a stop. The front seat occupants climbed out, covering Jirik and Bran as they exited before the man in the back seat. Jirik had to admit that the three were pretty good. The captives had been given no chance of overpowering their captors. He looked around. The groundcar had stopped inside of a large open building, presumably a warehouse. Their captors nudged them toward the dingy office occupying one corner of the huge building. One of the thugs rapped on the office's door with his needler, and a familiar voice replied, "Come in!"
As they were herded through the door and roughly pushed into hard, uncomfortable chairs, Jirik thought Cony! Then it really is join or die!
Seeing the recognition in Jirik's eyes, the burly man grinned. "Yes, Captain, It's me. Don't worry, you won't be harmed!"
"What the deity's going on?" Jirik grated. "What're you doing here? I thought you lived on Boondock. Why did you grab us?"
Cony's grin was predatory. "Restrain your outrage, Captain. We have business to discuss. First, though, I must know where you were during the two hours between the time you were picked up by a groundcab in front of the Guild office, and the time another groundcab brought you back there."
Jirik shrugged. "We went to the Market of the Rim. Somebody at the Guild mentioned it, and we thought we'd take a look, since we had some time. Our business out here is completed, and we're heading back toward the inner rim. It was too late to conduct any business today, but we thought we'd at least take a look at the Market, since we'll be back there tomorrow, trying to arrange inbound cargoes." He bristled. "So, why the hell is it any of your business?"
Cony looked satisfied. "It's my business because I may have a proposition for you. First, though, one other detail." He nodded at the three big men who were still standing behind the spacers. Jirik and Bran were roughly dragged from their chairs and searched. The contents of all their pockets were emptied onto the office's desk, then one of the thugs ran a hand scanner over their entire bodies, while the others held them immobile.
Jirik's steady stream of curses was accompanied by Bran's vocal objections. Finally, they were pushed back into the chairs, where they were held by the thugs while Cony examined their belongings. He thoughtfully examined their weapons and purchases from the Market before tossing them back on the desk, where the thug with the scanner passed it over each item, before tossing all but the weapons back to their owners. Finally, the thug snapped off the scanner and stepped back.
At Cony's nod, all three stepped out of the office, leaving Jirik, Bran and Cony alone.
Chapter 16
"You've got a lousy way of negotiating deals," Jirik growled.
Cony grinned. "I'm sorry, Captain, but security is essential. You'll understand when I explain my proposition. But first, would you mind telling me why you were armed? It seems to me an unnecessary risk on a strange civilized planet, where personal weapons might be frowned upon."
"I'm not so sure that I'm interested in any proposition where 'security is essential'," Jirik replied in a surly tone "Security was essential in the book deal, too, and we ended up nearly getting our asses blown off. As for the needlers, I knew that I would be transporting a letter of credit worth a million and a quarter. As you pointed out, we've never been here before. I didn't want to take any chances. I think that we've had all the excitement that us old bastards can stand!"
"You know that that breach of security was Fanlin's fault!" Cony protested. "But your ability to complete the mission under those circumstances is one of the reasons that you're here. Both missions." he added.
Jirik put on a confused expression. "What do you mean, 'both missions'?" he asked suspiciously.
Cony laughed. "Really, Captain, Who do you think had you buy and smuggle that battle comp software and those weapon specs? We needed them, of course, but that little deal was largely a test. A test which you passed very well. Your willingness to accept the deal, and your success in carrying it off, are the reasons that we're talking now."
Jirik shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Yeah, well, we're talking, all right," he groused, "but you sure aren't saying much. Why don't you just.tell us what's on your mind?"
Cony held up a hand. "In a moment, Captain. Are you sure that you wouldn't prefer to continue this discussion in private? I'm sure that Mr. Fergson will excuse us."
Jirik smiled sourly. "Your caution is a bit late, isn't it? If I had kept the smuggling deal secret from Bran, you just told him all about it. But, don't worry about it. Bran knew all about it. I tell him everything."
Cony flushed. "I'm afraid that you're right, Captain. It was careless of me, and I apologize." He shrugged. "If you don't object to Mr. Fergson's presence, we might as well get on with it."
"During your time on Boondock, I'm sure that you heard of Ran Atmos, and his work." Cony sat forward, and his voice took on an intensity that it had previously lacked. "You're probably also aware that we rimworlders take Dr. Atmos' predictions seriously. Very seriously indeed. The Empire is going to fall, and while some of us are content to let that happen and then try to pick up the pieces, a lot of us feel that simply sitting on our asses for two hundred years isn't enough. If the Empire is simply allowed to fall without hindrance, billions will die; but even more importantly, much of mankind's knowledge will be lost with it. We won't permit that to happen. I won't permit that to happen!"
Bran stirred. "Even if it's true that the Empire is falling, what can you do about it that you're not alrea
dy doing? You're breeding and training a cadre of outstanding people. You have one of the premier universities in the galaxy, and one hell of a library, as we can testify; though I'm not sure why you located them on a high-gravity planet. Anyway, it seems to me that if civilization is going to fall, it's going to fall from the outside inward. Interstellar trade would decline, gradually isolating the outmost systems; isolation would lead to a decline in the standard of living, perhaps even a decline sliding into barbarism, as the trappings of civilization disappear. As I understand it, you're accumulating knowledge so that, as the Empire or Alliance leaves systems in isolation, your people can move in to prevent that decline." he shrugged. "If you accept the decline and fall of the Empire, and perhaps even the Alliance as fact, then what you are doing is practical and laudable. And profitable. So, what's the problem?"
A new respect for Bran warred with the fanatic brightness in Cony's eyes. "But, don't you see? Think of the billions who will die before we can get to them! Think of the irreplaceable knowledge that will be lost! The Art! The Music! The Literature!" He waved a dismissal. "Oh, sure, we're training all sorts of techs. Scientists. Engineers. But where are the philosophers? The artists of all types? The dreamers? There's more to preserving civilization than just keeping the machines running. No, we have to get there before the riots start. Before the libraries are sacked. Before the veneer of civilization is lost!" Cony was warming to his theme, launching into an obviously often-delivered speech. "Don't you see, philosophy and the arts are some of the most fragile components of a civilization, and yet they virtually define that civilization? When a society is in trouble, philosophy and the arts are some of the first things to be abandoned as excess baggage in the interest of survival; and, once lost, they are one of the least replaceable. No, we can't wait! We must be ready now! We have to be ready to move in on threatened planets before they're abandoned!"
The Rim Rebels Page 27
