"Suppose you're right," Jirik replied, "Just supposing. I can see where that could be an interesting insight. Maybe I'm missing something, but it seems to me that knowledge is pretty much useless if you can't utilize it. If we can't do anything about it, why is the theory so important to you people, and why is the man considered so great?"
Jak was growing agitated. "But, that's just the point! It isn't useless knowledge. It lets humanity, us, plan for the ultimate dissolution of the Empire. We can't avoid the catastrophe, but we can use the time we've been given to lessen its severity. Mankind's entire existence is at stake. If all of the man-settled universe descends into barbarity or worse, millennia of development and civilization will have gone for nothing. Man could even disappear from the universe. We can't let that happen. We of the Rim Worlds have decided that we won't let it happen."
Jirik's tone became amusedly tolerant. "And exactly how are you going to prevent it? If this Atmos is right, and the Empire does fall, how do you propose to avoid being dragged down with it? I mean, one small Rim planet seems pretty insignificant to save mankind from the forces of darkness."
Jak's face reddened at Jirik's patronizing tone, but he plowed on determinedly. "The people of the Rim have decided what we're going to do about it We're working together, pooling resources. Seventy-five years ago hardly any Boondockers had more than a few years' education. There wasn't a library on the planet, except for a few private collections. Then Dr. Atmos came to Boondock. He convinced us. He helped us decide to do what we could to prevent the loss of man's knowledge. Our traders carried his words and works to other planets in this sector. Now, there are nine of us. Nine worlds dedicated to preserving the best of our civilization. We will not go down with the Empire. We will survive. And, when mankind needs us, we will have the knowledge, the resources to keep mankind's civilization alive. That's why I said 'especially spacers'. You can carry the warning to other worlds. Maybe many other worlds. If the word gets around, if other planets prepare like we are, maybe the candle of civilization will only flicker, instead of going out."
"Whew!" Jirik marveled, "Maybe you should be a missionary! I'm sure that you're sincere. But I'm a trader, son, and I tend to think of things in terms of cargo. Do you have any idea of the sheer amount of human knowledge accumulated during ten thousand years of human civilization? It boggles the mind. I've been to the Empire Library on Alpha. If I remember the info-packet correctly, it said that the Library complex contains over two cubic kilometers of book discs, chips, and vids. And the Library makes no pretense of containing more than a fraction of man's written knowledge. If you could accumulate all of mankind's written knowledge, I would be very surprised if it wouldn't make a mass the size of a good size star. There's simply no way for a few small rim planets to accumulate, or even store that much information."
Jak paused and downed his third drink. He was well on his way to regaining the flashed state he had been in when the fight broke out. "We know that," he slurred, "Thass . . . uh . . . that's what the big argument's all about."
"Argument? What argument?"
"Well, jush . . . uh . . . just because we agree on what's going to happen," Jak replied, "That doesn't mean we agree on what to do about it. Most of us think that we should concentrate on saving the accumulated knowledge of mankind from the destruction that's sure to follow the Collapse." The way he said it, Jirik could hear the capital "C" on "Collapse." "But there's a bunch of radicals callin' themselves 'Actionists' who think that we should actually try to take over planets; to convert them to our way of thinking." He shrugged. "I dunno. They got some points, I guess, but even if we could do it, I don't think that we have any right to take over anybody else's planet."
A man standing at the bar had obviously been listening to their conversation. Jirik had noticed him, and had slowly been drifting back into his drunk act. From the man's appearance and manner, he was another miner. As Jak talked, the man displayed increasing signs of agitation. As Jak finished his comments about the Actionists, however, the man evidently exhausted his patience. He stalked over to their table, and with only a perfunctory "MindifIjoinyou", plopped into the table's empty chair.
"Look," he said belligerently, "You spheres don't know what you're talkin' about." He looked blearily at Jirik. "Look, spacer, if you wanta know about Actionists, you should ask one."
Jirik produced a drunkenly bewildered look. "Do I wanta know about Ackshunists?" He turned to Jak. "Jak, I din't know I wanneda know about Ackshunists. I never even heard of 'em until you jush . . . uh . . . just mentioned 'em."
Jak was looking apprehensive. It was becoming obvious that another brawl was about to break out, and neither Jirik nor Jak was interested in participating. Jirik felt that he had gathered quite enough information for one evening. With Jak again becoming befuddled with drink, Jirik knew it was up to him to defuse the situation. The Actionist looked as though he meant to make his points, even if it was with his fists. If he really was flashed, Jirik reminded himself.
"Look, pal," Jirik said woozily, "We don' wan' no trouble. If my fren' here offended you somehow, I 'pologize. He was jus helpin' me learn my way aroun'."
"No, no, 's Okay," the man replied, waving a scarred hand, "I ain't lookin' for trouble. I jus' thought somebody who knows oughta tell you 'bout the Actionists." He stuck out a ham-sized hand. "M'name's Ry. Ry Falko." Jirik took the proffered hand in his own, and a short squeezing contest ensued. Jirik didn't win, but there was a new respect in Falko's eyes as they settled back.
Jirik decided that there was no graceful way to exit until this Falko character had his say. He sighed. Oh, well.
"Jak, here, has just been 'splainin' to me 'bout this Atmos character," Jirik explained to their new guest, "an' his ideas about the fall of the Empire. I'm not sure I unnerstand or b'lieve alla it, but he's a good guy. He ain't no spear."
"Not 'spear' 'sphere'." Falko corrected. "It jus' means he ain't no Actionist. He's a Longtermer." At Jirik's look of bleary incomprehension, Falko relaxed, and continued. "See, us Actionists ain't gonna sit aroun' an' wait for th' Empire to fall apart. We figger we gotta be prepared. We gotta be ready, see." He paused invitingly, as though he had produced some great insight and expected a response.
Jirik shrugged and obliged. "How do ya prepare for the enda civli . . . uh . . . civilization?"
Falko became almost comically conspiratorial. "Thass the secret. Can't tell ya that. But we'll be ready. Don'chu worry. Us Actionists 're gonna save ever'body."
At this, another man left the bar and came over to the table. This one was sober, and obviously unhappy with the drunken Falko "Awright, Ry. That's enough. You got no call to bother these folks." He flicked a glance at the apparently inebriated Jirik. "Sorry, Spacer. I'd better get him home. He's gotta work in the morning.
"'S okay, mister." Jirik, sensing danger, played his drunk act for all it was worth. "I was jus' talking to m'friend Jak, here, an' he come over 'n started rattlin' on about Actionists. I dunno 'zackly what he meant, but he seemed real excited about it."
The newcomer lifted Falko to his feet, shot Jirik a penetrating look, and helped his friend out the door. Jirik relaxed slightly. He suspected that he had just avoided serious trouble; at least, he hoped he had. He looked over at Jak, who was slumped over, his head resting on the table. His stentorian snores made it obvious that he was finished for the evening.
Relieved, and more than a little weary from the gravity, Jirik decided that it was time that he got back to the Lass. He checked his ring watch, and was surprised how close it was to midnight. Continuing his drunk act for the benefit of the bar's remaining patrons, he lurched out into the street. He staggered for two blocks before deciding that it was safe to straighten and strode off toward the port.