Note: For anyone wishing to find out how Jason and Trevor got into this fix, refer to Part 1: A Slight Deception.
The Pirate Prince II
The Reluctant Pirate: 1/?
By Linda Garrick and Nancy Smith
Chapter 1
Corporal Richard Trevor glared balefully at Jason Sweeney. "Damn you, Shrimp! What a hellish stunt to pull! I ought to...." He got to his feet, and took a step toward Jason. Jason retreated, suddenly very frightened.
"Stay away from me! I didn't do it! It was Westover —- don't you understand that? I didn't have anything to do with it!"
Trevor put both hands to his head. "You're doing it again, you little twerp! Stop it! Get out of my brain! Get OUT!"
Jason shook his head helplessly and retreated still more. It was quite impossible for him to obey the man. Although Alan Westover had told him that he and Trevor were linked, Jason couldn't feel it.
Trevor lifted a fist the size of a grapefruit. "GET OUT!"
"I can't!" Jason was half crying now with terror and exhaustion brought on by the strain of the last twenty hours. "I would if I could. Don't hit me!"
"You can if you want to bad enough! You damn psychics can do anything!"
Jason edged along the bulkhead, racking his brains to think of something to say to distract the man from his anger. He was too tired and too frightened to concentrate. Richard Trevor was a dangerous man, and Jason was sure the guy would kill him, if, in doing so, he did not endanger himself. "Leave me alone!"
"Why should I, you damned twerp? You're not leaving me alone! Damn you, I ought to kill you! You lied about this damned business from the beginning and got me into this stinking mess, and now you're probably lying again, trying to get yourself out of trouble. Killing you won't kill me. Why should it? Terran psychics who are linked with another, psychic don't die when their partners are killed! I know that for sure, so why should killing you kill me? Once you're dead, I'll be free of you."
Jason's nerve snapped. He screamed and tried to bolt past the man. Trevor caught him by the collar and spun him about. A giant fist lifted, and Jason tried ineffectually to protect his face as the huge man hit him. He saw stars. Trevor swore and hit him again, harder. The stars expanded, and for a moment his surroundings blurred out. He fought against it, sobbing brokenly. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone!"
Trevor dropped him. Jason folded to the deck and squirmed back, trembling, and sobbing. The Corporal's face swam back into view through the dancing stars. The big man was glaring at him, but made no attempt to renew the attack.
He reached the bulkhead and huddled against it, trying to stop crying. Never in his life had he been so miserable. He was trapped here alone on this tiny escape craft, at the mercy of a violent brute of a man, who clearly had no scruples about anything. And there was nothing he could do to escape.
Silence filled the cabin except for the low hum of the engines. Jason lay still, uncaring. He heard Trevor swearing savagely again, and waited, cringing, for the next blow.
But nothing happened, and after a long moment he managed to raise his head. Trevor was still staring at him, a furious expression on his face, one hand absently rubbing a spot on his cheek -— the same area that still throbbed painfully on Jason's own face. The link was still functioning, then. Alan Westover had told him it would continue to function without regard to distance until one of them died. It was some consolation, anyway, to know that every time Jason was hurt, Trevor would feel it, too.
He stared at the man with hatred. Never in his life had he encountered anyone like Richard Trevor. For a few moments after discovering that Jason was in actuality not an Underground agent, he had sat quiet and motionless. Then, like a volcano exploding, his anger had erupted.
Trevor stood up and came toward him again. Jason scrambled to his knees. "Leave me alone! I hate you!"
"You're still in there, twerp! Get out!"
"I can't! Don't you understand? I don't want to do it! It's not my fault! Don't hit me anymore!"
Silence. Trevor's face remained unyielding. He drew his blaster and fingered the settings. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"
Jason felt his eyes flick to the weapon, and drew them back forcibly to Trevor's face. "What are you going to do?"
Silence. Trevor grimaced suddenly. "Will you stop it?" He rubbed a hand hard across his eyes. "Get out of there!"
"I can't," Jason said hopelessly. "I can't even feel myself doing it."
"Well I sure can!" Trevor swore wearily, anger apparently spent at last. He fingered the weapon. "What'll happen if I just kill you, Shrimp? It'll probably hurt some, but then it'll be over with, and dammitall, it'll be worth it. I'll be free."
"Westover said you'd be dead."
"He lied. Why shouldn't he? This was all a setup to get me to rescue you. He didn't want me to fly off the handle and kill you, so he lied.
"No ...."
Trevor bit his lower lip and leveled the blaster at Jason.
For a long moment he remained so, his expression hard. Jason flattened himself against the bulkhead again, trying not to scream. What would a blaster bolt feel like? Did you die instantly, or did you feel the searing heat of the bolt?
A minute went by, and then another, and still Trevor didn't fire. Jason found himself watching the weapon in fascination. Westover had disarmed a patrolman, hadn't he? Why couldn't Jason do the same thing, before the guy worked up the nerve to pull the trigger?
In his mind he reached for the blaster, surprised that he could feel the hard, cold outlines of it in his brain. He was clumsy, and doubted he would be able to bring it to him as Westover had done, but maybe ...."
He struck at the weapon, and, disbelieving, saw it jerk upward and spin away across the floor. Instantly he was leaping after it, hearing Trevor curse. Then the blaster was in his hands, and he came up in a roll, leveling it at Trevor. "Don't move!"
Trevor froze in midstep, mouth thinning. "So," he said coolly, "you aren't a member of the Underground, huh?"
Jason didn't answer. He gestured with the weapon. "Back up."
Trevor obeyed. "Why the elaborate deception, Shrimp? You testing me or something -— seeing if I'm worthy to join your damned organization?"
"I'm not an Undergrounder," Jason said.
Trevor laughed. "Then how do you explain your training?"
"I'm not trained. I've never done anything like that before. Which of these buttons sets the blaster for stun?"
Trevor was watching him narrowly. "You’re not an Undergrounder?"
"I told you I'm not. Which setting is for stun? Tell me, or I'll pick one and shoot."
Trevor didn't answer, but started to walk leisurely toward him. Jason backed away. "Stop! I'll shoot you!"
Trevor ignored him, still advancing. Jason tried to will his finger to move, without success. Trevor was almost upon him.
He tried to run.
The Corporal caught him easily in the restricted quarters, pulled his arms behind him in an armlock and forcibly removed the blaster from his grip. Then the man released him, letting him sink to the floor.
Jason huddled on the deck trying not to cry, furious with himself at his own weakness. Why hadn't he been able to shoot? Trevor had seen his lack of resolve, and had easily disarmed him. How stupid and weak could he be?
After a long moment he raised his head. Trevor had turned away and was standing before the controls, replacing the weapon in his holster. Slowly Jason straightened up. At least the Corporal didn't seem disposed to beat him anymore, although that might not last long.
Trevor spoke, "Where'd we pick you up, Shrimp?"
“Huh?”
"Your home?" The man spoke impatiently. "Where do you live?"
"Oh. Bellian."
"Bellian." Trevor tapped buttons on the computer and frowned at the readout. Jason got to his feet, feeling drained. His head still throbbed.
He considered the situation, trying to be objective. His father had always told him to fight only if the odds appeared possible for success. Anyone who fought when the odds were clearly impossible was a fool. How do you handle, a dangerous enemy, Jason? You make a friend of him -— if you can.
Make a friend of Richard Trevor?
Jason swallowed and willed his voice to be low and carefully polite. "Sir, what are you going to do?"
Silence. Jason hesitated, then edged toward the door. Trevor’s voice stopped him. "Come here, Twerp."
Hesitantly, Jason obeyed. Trevor caught his wrist and pulled him down into the seat beside him. "Stay there and don't move."
Jason obeyed meekly. Trevor was setting controls on the panel. Jason watched, interested in spite of his fear. Trevor's fingers were skillful and sure on the complex controls. The comp beeped and the patrolman pressed buttons on it as well. A readout appeared.
"Get your webbing on," Trevor said, not looking at him.
Jason pulled it across his lap. The fastening was strange to him, but after a moment he figured it out and clicked it into place.
"Sublight," Trevor said.
With a jolt, the little ship emerged into normal space. Unfamiliar constellations appeared on the screen. Jason stared, fascinated. He had never been in space before, and, although he had seen pictures of the wonders of the galaxy, the reality was quite different. In spite of his uncertain circumstances, he felt a thrill as he gazed at the screen.
Something floated off to their right —- a hazy mass of rainbow colors, more beautiful than anything imaginable.
"A nebula!" He heard his own voice. "That's the Spider Nebula!"
Trevor glanced at him. "Of course it is, Shrimp." Again he began to set the controls. Jason ignored him now, peering at the viewscreen. Above them blazed a star, red, blue, yellow and white, closer than any star he had even seen, except, of course, Bellian's sun. There were so many stars—far more than he had imagined could possibly exist, although, logically he had known they did. The glittering masses were breathtaking. Far to their left was a hazy glowing object, trailed by a wide, reddish veil. He stared at it, wondering, until he could restrain his curiosity no longer.
"Please, sir, what is that?"
Trevor glanced briefly in the direction of his pointing finger. "What is this? An astronomy lesson?" He was silent a moment, studying the computer readout. Jason had just decided he wasn't going to answer when he spoke almost absently. “It's a comet. Magnitude three."
"A comet!" Jason leaned forward, breathless with wonder.
"Yeah. It's heading down into Ingus -— that bright star over there. It's a sundiver. Ingus has lots of comets, you know? 'Bout three thousand, if I remember right." He turned back to the computer.
"Wow!" Jason continued to stare at it. Trevor didn't speak again, but after a few moments Jason became aware that the Corporal was watching him. He turned toward the man, instantly frightened again. Trevor turned away.
"Any ideas about where we should go?" he inquired, voice still rough and unfriendly.
Jason swallowed. "Well, you could just take me home, sir. Then you'd be rid of me. I'd be safe and no danger to you anymore."
Trevor laughed harshly. "Shut up."
Jason squirmed. "Please, sir, if I'm with my parents, I'll be safe. You can get away, and won't have to bother with me anymore. You could take off on your own, and ...."
Trevor interrupted him. "Don't be a fool, twerp. You think the Jils are going to let this be? You and I vanished. They know you're loose and able to tell folks about their dirty works."
"So are you!"
"Exactly. And when Westover blabs about me killing that Jil ...."
"Maybe he won't blab."
"Of course he'll blab. Why shouldn't he? He has no reason to protect me."
Jason hesitated. "He might not, sir. He has nothing to lose by taking credit for it, you know."
Trevor shrugged. "It doesn't matter a whole lot. When I don't show up, they'll know I either deserted or was killed. If I'm dead, I'm no liability. If I'm alive, I am, so they'll be watching for me, too. 'Trols have deserted before. It's nothing new to the Jils, and the punishment if they're caught is the same. Execution. With me it's a little different, though. If I'm caught, they'll read me to find out what I know, and they'll learn about me killing Rakinxvor. That means a public execution."
Jason swallowed. "But I don't see why you can't take me back to my parents."
"Do I have to spell it out for you, Twerp? The Jils are going to be thinking the same way. They'll be waiting for us."
"Oh." Light dawned, "Then my parents are in danger, too."
No answer, Trevor was studying the readout again, brow furrowed in thought.
"Corporal Trevor, I've got to warn them!"
"Don't be stupid. How?"
"I don't know, but I've got to try!" Jason stood up.
"Sit down!" Trevor yanked him brutally into the seat again,
Jason felt the ready tears flood his eyes. "Please, sir! There's got to be some way!"
"There's no way." Trevor's voice was hard and unfeeling as ever. "The Patrol'll be waiting for you. One possibility, though, is that the Underground will also be on top of this—if Westover got away —- which I doubt. But if he did, he'll send his friends to collect your parents. That's why I'm listening in on transmissions. If Westover's been caught, I should pick it up."
"You haven't heard anything?"
"Not so far." Trevor adjusted a dial. "If he hasn't been recognized and picked up, we might try going to Bellian and taking a look around. If the Underground does find out ...." He looked thoughtful, the hard lines of his face smoothing for a moment, and making him appear quite handsome, ".... If Westover did manage to escape —- again —- they'll have agents swarming all over your home town, watching for you, and we might be able to locate them. Dammit, Westover's slipped out of their grasp half a dozen times before. I don't know why he can't do it again."
"Oh, please, we've got to go! I've got to warn my family!"
Trevor looked at him, hard lines settling into his face again. "Cool it, twerp. Stay in line or take the consequences."
Jason settled into his chair, blinking back the tears and biting his lower lip. Trevor pressed a button on the panel, and a voice spoke suddenly from the com.
"....Just got the word, sir, Lord Rakinxvor’s dead, all right. Alan Westover was identified as the shooter. He confessed to the crime openly."
"And I suppose there's no hope of catching him?" The voice sounded resigned.
"No, sir. Linley showed up and snatched him away. Circumstances real unusual, and there's a couple o' persons missin'; either killed or deserted. One of 'em was a ' 'trol, but the other was a psychic, an' probably saw the whole thing."
"Damn! All right, Cargraves, I want a complete report." The transmission faded.
"He got away!" Jason leaned forward. "And he took the blame for the killing! I knew he would!"
Trevor's face was a mask of confusion. "Why the devil did he do that?"
"Because he didn't want them hunting for you! He knew I was with you! When he took the blame, it got some of the heat off of us. Don't you see?"
"Yeah, I guess it makes sense." Trevor hands moved over the controls. "Okay, then, let's head for Bellian. Maybe our luck'll hold,"
Jason nodded eagerly. "Please hurry, sir!"
"Shut up." Trevor scowled at him. "Got your webbing fastened?"
"Yes sir."
Silence fell. Trevor punched in coordinates. "Hyperspace, ten seconds."
Jason clutched the seat, watching the screen. There was a slight jolt and the stars winked out,
"Be there in twenty hours," Trevor said. He glanced at Jason. "Go into the galley and get us something to eat, Shrimp."
"Yes sir." Glad to be relieved of the Corporal's presence, Jason hurried into the galley.
The shelves were well stocked with dried or canned rations, coffee and wafers. Jason didn't care what it was. He was starving. Rapidly he opened a can, revealing spaghetti and meatballs, shoved it into the processor and set the timer. Within minutes the stuff was steaming and he ladled it out onto two plates. The smell was ambrosial. The Corporal appeared in the doorway. "Got it ready?”
Jason handed him a mug of coffee and poured a glass of water for himself. Trevor sipped the brew and glanced at Jason, frowning. "You reading my mind, Shrimp?"
"No, I don't think so, sir."
"How'd you know I liked sugar and no cream?"
"I didn't --" Jason's voice trailed off. "Gosh, sir, I always know. I think that's how I got spotted as a psychic. The school principal turned me in." He stopped, then resumed. "Here's some food. I hope you like spaghetti."
No answer. The Corporal set the plate on the table and took another swallow of coffee. Jason saw the lines on his face smooth out again, and sensed his pleasure at the taste of the brew. Maybe Jason could win him over if he worked at it. Jason had never before had trouble making friends. Always, somehow, he had known how to pacify even the meanest bullies.
But Corporal Trevor was different. This guy had a personal gripe against him, and one that was not likely to soften with time.
"Knock it off, Shrimp!" the Corporal said suddenly. "You're wasting your, talents! They won't work on me."
"What?" Jason said blankly.
"Your empathy. Don't think I don't know about it. Terran psychics are rich in the stuff. It won't work on me, hear?"
Jason quelled the hot answer which rose to his lips. "I'm not," he said evenly.
"Don't lie. I'm not stupid." Trevor seated himself and began to eat. Jason sat down across from him, wolfing down the food. Trevor finished his plate in record time, got up and went back into the control room without a word. Jason took a second helping, not really full as yet, and not wanting to keep company with the Corporal unless absolutely necessary. After he had finished, he tidied up, storing the plates and utensils in the processor, then hesitated. He was tired, but didn't want to go back in the control room where the bunks certainty were. Still, there was room to curl up on the floor in here.
He did so, closing his eyes. Every muscle ached, and his head still throbbed dully. He was asleep within minutes.
He dreamed. Lord Rakinxvor was looking down at him. "That one," he said, and Jason felt the patrolmen dragging him toward the interrogation chair. He screamed, struggling frantically against the hands clutching his arms.
"Wake up, dammit!" It was Corporal Trevor's voice. "You're doing it again!"
Jason started awake. Trevor's face was over him, and he shrank back with a scream. The Corporal shook him, hands hard and frighteningly powerful. "Stop! Get out of my mind!"
Jason became still. The dream was fading, and he saw only Trevor's face, a mask of anger.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "What did I do?"
Trevor let him go. "Don't you know better than to go to sleep on the deck while we're in hyperspace, you little idiot? If we'd had to come out for something, you could've been killed."
Jason cleared his throat. "Well, that would solve a lot of problems for you, wouldn't it, sir?"
Trevor's hand lifted. Jason cowered back, covering his face with his arms.
But the Corporal didn't strike him. Instead he grasped Jason's wrist and jerked him upright. "Get in here where I can keep an eye on you." He yanked Jason into the control room and pressed a button on the bulkhead. A bunk folded silently down.
Jason looked at it. "Did I ... did I link with you while I was dreaming, sir?"
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry. I saw the Jil again. It scared me."
"I know." Trevor jerked his head at the bunk. "Get some more sleep."
"I might dream again."
Trevor shrugged. "Well, you can't stay awake forever. I'll wake you up if you start it." He grimaced. "Damn! I hate that feeling!"
"I know, sir."
Trevor glared at him. "Go to sleep, twerp."
Jason closed his eyes.
**********
tbc
