The Reluctant Pirate: 5/?
by Linda Garrick and Nancy Smith
Chapter 5
Jason leaned forward in anticipation as the heavy forests beneath gave way to tree dotted fields and scattered farmhouses. "It’s not far now, sir. Maybe thirty or forty kilometers."
Trevor swore suddenly and unrestrainedly. Jason turned quickly toward him. "What’s the matter?"
Trevor was red in the face. "These damned trousers! I just split 'em from stem to stern."
"Oh my! Boy, you sure did!" Jason giggled. "Sexy pants, pal!"
"Shut up, Squirt." Trevor said a four-letter word under his breath. "Well, this is just wonderful!" He set the controls, on automatic and began to yank at the jeans. "Give me those damned Patrol breeches back. I guess I'm doomed to wear them forever."
Jason tried not to laugh as he handed the breeches to Trevor. The Corporal scowled darkly at him. "What’s so funny?"
"Nothing," Jason choked. "I'm sorry, Trev.”
Trevor gave a bark of laughter as he stripped off the torn pants. "They weren't my style, anyway."
"No, they weren't," Jason agreed, biting his lip.
Trevor wiggled into the Patrol breeches and pulled the sweater down as far as he could. "Damn! It looks like hell!"
"Don't worry, sir. Once we're in New Brunswick, we can stop at a store and I'll go in and buy you something decent. Anyway, no one can see the pants as long as you're in the car."
"Yeah, but ...."
"I've been thinking about this a lot, sir, and, personally, I think it would be safer if I sneaked in alone first. I have a secret entrance to the house, and ....
"No."
"Trev, please! I know those grounds better than anyone else. I've lived there all my life. If anyone is watching, they'd see you, but not me. Please, Trev."
"No way, pal. You'd get in trouble for sure."
"Then how are we going to find out if my parents are still there?"
Trevor's brow furrowed. "I guess we could call."
"Sure!" Jason glanced around. "I should have thought of that before. Gosh, we could have called from that poor hunter's house. Let's stop at the first phone booth we see."
Five minutes later they pulled up before a small town general store. Jason started to get out, then stopped. "Uh ... sir ...."
"Yeah?"
"I don't have any money. The guy who caught me took my wallet."
"Oh." Trevor handed him fractional credit coins. Jason got out and hurried over to the phone. Trevor pulled the car up closer so he could listen to the conversation.
Jason dialed the number and inserted a coin into the machine. There was a distant ringing sound.
"Hello?" It was his mother's voice.
"Mom! It’s Jason!"
"Jason! Honey, where are you?"
Jason found himself laughing in sheer relief. "I'm okay, Mom I'm fine! I'll be home in a few minutes."
"But where are you, dear? What happened to you? Tell me!"
A little prickle ran over Jason's spine -- a warning? He glanced at Trevor and mouthed the words. "It's mom. She wants to know where I am."
"Jason, are you still there?"
"Yes, Mom." Jason's eyes were on Trevor. The big man was shaking his head in negation. "Uh, Mom, just hold on. I'll be home soon. I'm fine. Honest."
"Jason, do you have that Patrolman with you ... what's his name ... Trevor?"
Jason hesitated, the warning becoming stronger.
"Jason, what's wrong? Has he hurt you?"
"No, mom. He's been very nice to me."
A pause. "Jason, please don't trust that man. He’s working for the Jilectans, you know."
"Mom, please! He saved my life."
Another silence. Then, "All right, Jason. I wish you'd tell us where you are."
Trevor was motioning for him to hang up. Jason nodded. "Never mind, mom. I'll be home soon. Love you." He clicked the receiver down and jumped back in the car weak with relief. "She's okay. The Jils haven't bothered her. She's home, waiting for me."
Trevor's reply was dubious. "Maybe. Are you sure it was your mom?"
"Sure? 0f course I'm sure. I know my own mother."
Trevor shook his head. "Then how did she know about me?"
The question struck Jason dumb. "Uh...maybe the Underground told her."
"Did she mention the Underground?"
"No." Jason gulped. "Trev, there’s got to be some explanation. It was her voice. I'd swear it."
"The Jils are good at making people say what they want them to say, kid."
"You mean they'd torture her into lying? No! She wasn't, Trev! I could tell!"
"Well, drugs, then."
"No! She sounded just as natural as anything. I'd have been able to tell if --" He broke off, not wanting to believe it. "She's my mother! I'd know!"
Trevor was frowning at nothing. "Well, I guess it's possible they used a Tormheit."
"What?"
"A Tormheit. You've heard of the Tormheits, haven't you?"
"Well, Sure. They're from Fomalhaut B. But what could they possibly have to do with all this?"
"Maybe nothing." Trevor pushed buttons absently and the car lifted again, gliding forward. "But I've seen the Jils use 'em when they need to imitate, a voice. They use a Tormheit. The Tormheits have a voice box and the ability to imitate a sound almost perfectly, like a Terran ... minex. Is that what it's called?"
"Mynah bird, you mean?"
"Yeah, that's it. They can copy any voice, so closely that even the guy's close friends and relatives can't tell the difference. I'm thinking, that if they caught your mom, and she refused to try to lure you in, as she probably would, they probably wouldn't try to force her. Force is usually detectable by the person listening, particularly if that person is a psychic. They'd use a Tormheit."
Jason gulped. "Maybe they didn't catch her," he said weakly. "They could have gotten her voice from her place of work. They have lots of recordings of it. She works in a police station."
"Maybe." Trevor shrugged. "It doesn't really matter A Tormheit doesn't need much to do a perfect copy."
Ahead the outskirts of New Brunswick came into view, Jason's stomach felt like a lump of lead, and his eyes blurred suddenly. 'It doesn't really matter.' Trevor didn't care. Jason could tell the Corporal was unaffected by the knowledge of the Sweeney's probable fate. He didn't care, and he didn't understand. Jason felt anger rising in him. Trevor didn't know how to care for other people. The only person who mattered to him was himself.
"Which way, Shorty?"
"We're almost there." Jason kept his voice level, feeling the fury boiling up in him, mixed with apprehension for his family. "That house on the corner lot. The one set back from the street."
The car settled into an alley between two houses cattycornered to the Sweeney home Trevor set the brake and turned to look at him, expression annoyed, "What the hell's wrong with you, Shrimp?"
"Nothing!" Jason turned on him furiously. "You're the one with something wrong, Corporal Trevor, sir!"
Trevor's face changed, becoming cold and hard: the face of Corporal Richard Trevor, Patroller, psychic hunter and kidnapper. "You've been looking in my thoughts and not liking what you see, twerp? Well, excuse me for thinking, Terran psychic!"
Jason spun, reaching far the door handle. "I'm going! I've got to know!”
Trevor caught his wrist in an unbreakable grip, jerking him roughly back. "Oh no you don't!"
Jason tried uselessly to pull his wrist free. "What's the matter, sir? Are you afraid I might care about someone else besides you?"
Instantly he was sorry for the words. Hurt and anger radiated from Trevor, and the corporal’s face became, if possible, colder and more remote than before.
Jason opened his mouth to voice an apology, but it was too late. Trevor had released him, thrusting him away so hard his head banged against the side of the aircar, bringing a cry of pain from him.
"Care for someone else? I don't give a damn who you care for, Twerp! You’re a spoiled brat, and a damn fool bedsides. You let your emotions rule you, then get upset when everyone else doesn't do the same thing. Get out! Go on! Go get yourself caught by the Jils. I'll think about you when you're being publicly executed! Go on! Get!"
"Sir," Jason said wearily. "Please --"
"Don't bother." Trevor looked away. "Get out of my life, twerp."
Jason hesitated, then pulled open the door and headed across the street toward his home. Tears blurred his eyes.
Left alone, Trevor stared stonily at the wall of the building beside him. He'd been a fool and a weakling to let himself be taken in by a Terran psychic. From boyhood, Trevor had learned and followed one solid rule. Don't lower your defenses. You do and people'll take advantage of you.
Yet, with Jason, things had seemed different. Jason was the nicest, most likable kid he'd ever known. Jason accepted him for what he was, not even holding the knowledge of his former status as a slave against him. In fact, the boy had appeared to admire his actions and resourcefulness. Romantic idiot. Trevor scowled darkly. Jason, the empath. Jason knew how to make others like him. All empaths did.
Cursing savagely under his breath, Trevor began punching controls on the aircar. He'd leave now; strike out on his own. He'd have a helluva better chance without Jason tagging along, anyway…
Someone was coming along the sidewalk -- a man, striding briskly. He was a big man, and dressed neatly, though casually, in dark slacks and a large, heavy coat. Trevor surveyed him a moment, then removed the blaster from it's holster at his hip. He needed clothing, and this guy could supply it. He was about the right size as Trevor ....
Trevor slid down in the seat, waiting.
The pedestrian passed the car. Trevor waited until he was just beyond the window then leaned quietly from the vehicle and pressed the trigger.
A stunbolt hummed and the man folded silently. Trevor jumped from the car, caught his victim beneath the arms, and dragged him into the rear seat of the vehicle.
The boots came first. Trevor stripped them off, tossing them into the front seat, then began to pull off the breeches. An instant later they followed the boots, and Trevor began to remove the fellow's coat.
A scream sounded, so loud and clear that he jumped, one hand darting for his blaster. Jason's mind closed with his, the boy's face vividly before his eyes. "Trev! Help! Help me!"
Corporal Trevor never paused to think. With one quick motion he fired a second stunbolt at the figure in the rear seat, and a moment later was out of the car, running.
He had no need of a guide. All the guide he could possibly use was directly before him, crying out for help. A hand struck him across the face, and stars sparkled before his eyes.
He ran directly across the street and ducked through trees on the lawn. Jason was very close: only a few meters away now. He was screaming for help, and struggling frantically against powerful, ruthless hands. Vividly, Trevor felt the boy shoved forward on his face, and then the numbing tingle of a stunbolt. The sensation washed over him, startling a grunt from him. The link dissolved.
He could hear, voices before him, and then another sound that made his neck prickle: the soft, grammatically perfect tones of a Jilectan. A Jil! He had to get Jason away from one of the aliens!
Trevor dropped flat on his stomach and wiggled forward over a mat of pine needles, the blaster clutched before him. An instant later the scene came into view.
There were four figures before him; five, if you counted Jason. The little boy was draped over the broad shoulders of a man, who must be a 'trol from his size, although he was clad in civilian clothing. A little apart stood the Jilectan and two armed bodyguards.
It was a bad spot. He couldn't hope to outdraw them all, and with the Jil there, holding them at blasterpoint and forcing them to comply with his wishes was impossible. The Jilectan would read his mind, see his ultimate goal: the deaths of all of then, if he could bring himself to shoot a Jil again, and take action. No, there was only one thing for Trevor to do, and he must act quickly. Any moment the alien would sense him.
The one guard's arms were occupied with Jason. That made his rapidly formed plan possible, if he moved at once.
Almost too late! The Jil sensed him and leaped sideways with the lightning reflexes of his species, blaster lifting.
Trevor fired. The weapon, set on emergency max, gave up its charge in a single mighty burst. The Jilectan's beam grazed Trevor's shoulder with white, hot flame, as he rolled sideways. Dimly he heard the Jilectan scream shrilly, and scrambled to his feet, charging forward.
The man holding Jason was staggering forward, shouting in panic. Trevor hit him waist high, hurling him backwards, Jason flying from his hold. His fist connected solidly with the fellow's chin, knocking him flat. Then the corporal was wrestling the blaster from the man’s holster, flicking the setting as he did so. The Jilectan wasn't dead, though badly burned, and any live Jil was dangerous. Trevor turned the newly acquired weapon on the alien.
M’lord met his eyes, and in spite of the pain in the alien's expression, Trevor read the cool authoritative command he had always known from the aliens.
"You will not fire, Corporal," the Jilectan said coldly. "Give me the blaster."
Trevor gulped. "Don't move, M'lord. I’ll kill you."
"Give me the blaster, Corporal. Now."
The man he had punched groaned, and involuntarily Trevor's eyes flicked toward him.
The weapon jerked in his hold, almost writhing free. With a curse, Trevor grasped it tighter, brought it up and fired. The bolt caught the Jilectan in the chest and hurled him backwards.
Running footsteps were approaching. No time for anything now. Trevor bent, snatched Jason up with one arm and ran.
He ducked through the concealing trees and burst free of them a moment later.
The street was directly ahead, and he bolted across it, hardly noticing as a groundcar swerved away, horn blaring, and collided with a parked vehicle. Trevor never paused. He vaulted both cars and dashed across another lawn, trampling two carefully cultivated rosebushes in his passage. Someone shouted a protest from the porch of the house.
Then he was at the entrance to the alley and charged down it. An instant later, he was at the car, yanking the door open. Tossing Jason inside, he leaped in behind him, hands slapping controls. The engine roared to life, and the car lifted, swooping forward out of the alley and up into the cloudy sky.
Behind him someone groaned and coughed, weakly.
Damn! He’d forgotten all about the guy whose clothes he'd been engaged in stealing when Jason’s summons had come! Absently Trevor turned in the seat, and, using the butt of the exhausted blaster, clipped the fellow behind the left ear.
His captive subsided.
Where to now? There was only one possible answer to that. They must head back to where they had abandoned their escape craft and leave this condemned world. Where could they go? He would decide that when they were safe.
He glanced back. Nothing on the scanners. He'd caught his pursuers completely by surprise. Leisurely now, moving slowly and methodically, he fitted a new energy cell into his blaster, set it on stun and fired a bolt at his captive. The man gave a faint moan and was still.
Jason stirred. Trevor's mouth thinned as, for the first time since the boy had called him for aid, he remembered why Jason had been out there alone, and how he had gotten into that mess.
Jason stirred again. The link quivered on the edge of awareness, then solidified, Trevor felt vividly the boy's stunner induced headache and nausea. He found himself gagging slightly as Jason began to retch.
"Trev!" Jason gasped out his name between the spasms. "Trev, help me!"
"You're already helped, twerp," Trevor growled.
Jason's shoulders jerked, then relaxed. His face came up, white and strained, but mirroring relief. The link began to fade.
"Trev?" There was joyful relief in the Jason's voice. The last of the link faded out. "You did come!" Jason clutched his arm and employed it in pulling himself upright. Helplessly, Trevor felt his anger melting away. The boy leaned against him, breathing in long, shaking spasms, which gradually grew less strained, and at last almost normal. Trevor forced himself to remain still, staring straight ahead, trying to re-summon his anger and failing.
Jason stirred and straightened up. "I'm sorry, sir," he said sadly. "You were right and I was wrong."
Trevor gave up and turned on him. "Damn you, kid! What a stupid stunt to pull!"
"I know. I'm sorry. Do you forgive me?"
“Oh dammit, kid! Shut up!"
"Trev ... oh heck! You really are mad at me, aren't you? I'm sorry."
"I said shut up, dammit! I'm not mad at you!"
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not. I'm mad at myself."
"At yourself! Why?"
"Because I'm not mad at you.
Jason looked puzzled for a moment and then smiled. "Oh, now I understand." A pause. "It's my mouth, sir. It's got me in trouble before. Sometimes I say things without thinking, and then I'm sorry."
Trevor found himself grinning without humor. "Well, it's nice to know that psychics are human, too."
"You never do that, sir. You always seem to know when to keep your mouth shut."
"Not true, Shorty. I stick my boot in my mouth periodically."
A pause. "Then we're friends again?"
“Yeah, we're friends again. Aw hell. Shorty, you were right. I can be an insensitive clod sometimes. Maybe someday I'll learn how to get along with normal people, and if anyone can teach me, it'll be you.
"It was my fault, sir. I took what you said the wrong way. You were just being practical, and I acted like a spoiled brat. I deserved what I got."
Trevor laughed. "You know, kid, you could probably make friends with Halthzor if you put your mind to it. You damn empath!"
Jason giggled. "I hope I never have the chance."
"Yeah. Amen to that.
Jason glanced back as a low moan came from the rear seat. Trevor drew his blaster and stunned the prisoner again, Jason stared at the recumbent figure.
"Who's that?"
"Some, guy who happened along while I was waiting for you," Trevor explained briefly. "I've got to have something that fits me besides these damned Patrol breeches. I've got his pants and boots. They're on the floor under your feet. Get his shirt and coat off of him, will you? Then we'll dump him somewhere."
"In the snow?" Jason looked horrified. "He'll freeze."
Trevor shrugged resignedly. "Okay, forget it. All I need are the pants and boots, anyway." He glanced down. "This looks like a good spot." The car began to lose altitude.
"Trev! Your shoulder’s burned! I didn't notice."
"It's not bad."
"The sweater’s all burned away, and the skin's blistered. This is a blaster burn! Oh, Trev!" Jason's voice was remorseful, "You must have gotten it when you rescued me."
"I'll be okay, Shorty." The car settled, onto a tree-studded slope, the beginning of the dense forest they had traversed to reach New Brunswick.
"Does it hurt?"
"Some. I didn't have time to think about it much."
"I'd better bandage it." Jason opened the glove compartment and scrabbled around for the emergency kit. "Take off the sweater, sir."
"Oh, Shorty, for the luvvamike -- oh, all right." Trevor stripped off the garment, wincing a little at the pain. Jason winced, too.
"Oh gosh it looks terrible. Hold still." Jason began to apply burn salve. Trevor glanced at the shoulder.
"It's not bad. I've seen a lot worse."
"There. Now hold still while I bandage it."
Trevor waited, feeling the gentle touch of Jason's empathic fingers on his shoulder. The boy would be a great doctor, if he ever decided to go into the business. The wound throbbed, but Jason's hands moved skillfully, covering it with a soft roll of gauze, and securing the bandage deftly. "There. Does it feel better now, sir?"
"Yeah. Thanks, kid." Trevor started to reach for the sweater, but Jason picked up the garment first, tossing it into the back.
"We can take his shirt, Trev."
Trevor grinned slightly. "Aren't you worried he'll get cold?"
"You’re more important than he is, sir; at least you are to me. He'll be okay. We'll leave him his coat and poor Willie’s sweater.”
Trevor ruffled the boy's hair, and reached into the rear seat, pulling at the prisoner's coat. It came off, and a moment later Jason had stripped the flannel shirt away, handing it to Trevor.
"Thanks." The corporal donned it and then hopped from the car, opening the rear door and dragging out the unconscious man. Jason got out, too, bundled him into the sweater and coat, and positioned him comfortably on the ground. Carefully, the psychic boy patted the wrap more closely about him, trying to cover the man's bare thighs.
"Poor guy. He's going to be awfully cold."
"Sick, too, I’ll bet. I've stunned him four times, and this makes the fifth." Trevor drew his blaster, methodically stunned the man one last time, then turned to usher Jason back into the car. "Let's go, kiddo."
"Poor guy," Jason repeated as they lifted off once more. "He's going to be pretty mad at you."
"Oh, he doesn't know me from Adam, Shorty. He was just hurrying along, probably late for an appointment or something, and I stunned him. I was just pulling off his clothes when you linked with me and yelled for help. I didn't even have time to get my pants on. I dashed out to rescue you in my undershorts."
"Oh!" Jason moved convulsively. "Trev! We've got to go back!"
"What? Are you crazy?"
"The Underground was there! Just before that bunch showed up, I heard Alan Westover calling me. He told me they were there to get me."
"Alan Westover! Are you Sure? It might have just been that Jil trying to get you off your guard."
"No, Trev. I'm sure. Westover's communicated with me before, remember? It was him. I'm positive. And the Jil sensed him, too. I heard him say something to his flunkies just before one of them stunned me."
The forests were below them. Trevor chewed his tip. "We can't go back, kid."
"We have to. It's our only chance!"
"You don't understand. There’s going to be cops all over that place by now, I killed the Jil."
Jason drew in his breath in a shrill gasp.
"There was no choice. I got there just as they were getting ready to take you away. The Jil didn't notice me until it was too late. He must have been distracted by Westover's mind. I hit him with emergency max. He shot at me at the same moment. That's where I picked up that burn."
Jason was looking at him, his mouth slightly open. "That's two Jils you've killed, Trev," he said after a moment. "And both of them to save me."
Trevor chuckled. "Don't worry, kid. I'm keeping track. But the question is, now what? We can't go back. The Undergrounders'll have cleared out by now, anyway. They couldn't stay around with cops and 'trols all over the place, and you can bet that one I left alive will have called for help fast. I'm sure they're going to be combing the planet for us before long. Might be, already."
Jason nodded. "Well, at least I know my folks are safe. Westover told me they were when he contacted me."
Trevor glanced at the little boy, and slowly, on an impulse he no longer tried to resist, put an arm around him. Jason looked up at him and smiled confidently. "Sir?"
"Yeah, Shorty?"
"You're the best friend I've ever had."
Trevor felt a lump rise in his throat. He swallowed, but it didn't go away. "Cut it out, empath," he growled.
"Yes sir, 'trol."
Trevor ruffled the boy's tousled hair. "You're the best friend I've ever had too, kid." He didn't add that, as well as being the best, Jason was the only friend he had ever known.
**********
tbc
