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The Reluctant Pirate: 8/?
by Linda Garrick and Nancy Smith

Chapter 9


Jason Sweeney opened his eyes. He was bound hand and foot, and lying on a hard deck. His head throbbed in a way with which he was now familiar -- a stunner headache.

He tried to be perfectly still, fighting back nausea and despair. He had been caught at last. After all their trouble —- all their work, they were caught. The Jils had them, and now would come the interrogations and executions.

It wasn't fair!

His father's voice spoke in his memory then, amused and cynical. "Fair? You expect life to be fair, Jason?"

Slowly the headache was subsiding. He blinked vigorously. "Trev?" he whispered hoarsely.

No reply. Jason felt panic engulf him. "Trev! Where are you?"

"Shut up." The words came from behind him. He rolled over, and beheld the interior of the lifeboat in which they had escaped from the psychic hunter ship. A man was at the controls, but he wasn't a Patrolman -— not unless the Patrol had radically altered their uniforms within the past week. The man was a Terran, and his clothing was gaudy to the extreme -- tight, flared red pantaloons, rather like those worn by the more fashionable Jils, and a loose, yellow top of some shimmery, glittery material. His hair fell far down his back in two long, black braids. There were glittering red rings in both ears. He looked mean.

Jason swallowed. His captor turned away from him and said something to an Arcturian, who was seated in the co-pilot’s chair. The alien also glanced back, baring needle fangs as he did so. Three of his front teeth were missing, and on either side of the gap, the teeth seemed to have elongated, like the teeth of a medieval vampire. His entire aspect was terrifying, and Jason found himself shrinking back.

"Trev!" he whispered, hardly loud enough to hear the word, himself.

"I'm in here, Shorty!" The Corporal's shout reached him, seeming to come from the galley. "Are you okay?"

"Yes!" Hardly realizing what he was doing, Jason began to wiggle toward the door of the galley. His head was still throbbing, but he ignored it. He had to get to Trevor!

A clawed foot descended on his back, pressing him down and halting his progress. He tilted his head up to see the Arcturian standing over him. A large, jeweled amulet dangled around the scaled neck, and gaudy rings -- at least a dozen of them -- looped his jointless, sinuous fingers.

"Remain where you are, little psychic," he hissed, "Or you sshall be sstunned again."

Jason rolled to his back and gazed up into those slitted yellow eyes. "Who are you?" he asked. "Why have you done this?"

The Arcturian showed him his canines again. The man at the controls laughed. "Why not?" he asked jovially. "Terran psychics bring in a good price!"

The Arcturian chuckled softly.

Jason looked from the alien to the Terran. He knew it was hopeless, but he had to try. "Please; don't turn me over to the Jils!"

Again that unearthly grin from the Arcturian. "Not Shilss, my boy," he hissed softly. "One Shil."

Jason swallowed. "Halthzor?"

The Arcturian’s grin widened. The man at the controls laughed loudly.

"Nope, not Halthzor," he said. "A much more important Jil than Halthzor! Much nobler."

Jason felt the infuriating tears rising to the surface. He willed them back and swallowed hard.

"Coming up on 'er," the Terran said. "M'lord's just boarded." He pressed buttons on the panel. "This is Granger. Kid's safe and sound."

"Come aboard, Granger," a voice responded.

Jason closed his eyes and waited. There was nothing he could do; no way to escape. That had certainly been a short trip, though. Surely these guys had come from one of the Jilectan worlds. He's never seen anyone dressed they way they were on Bellian before. He was being taken aboard a ship -- supposedly a Jil ship. Who were these people?

"Bay pressurizing," the Terran said. "Can you manage, the big guy, Puvvir?"

"Sssertainly." The Arcturian strode past Jason and into the galley. There was a sibilant hissing, a muted curse, and he reappeared, pushing Trevor before him. The ex-Patrolman's feet had been untied, but his hands were still fastened behind him. He looked immediately at Jason. "You okay, Shorty?"

Jason nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The Terran set the controls of the ship and strode over to him. He was lifted like a baby and tossed lightly over the man's shoulder. His bearer strode out of the lifeboat hatch, following the Arcturian and Trevor.

He was carried down the ramp and into the lifeboat bay. There was an awful smell about his captor, and he tried to breathe through his mouth as they crossed the room. He could hear Trevor's footfalls and the click of the Arcturian’s on the deck. Grey, nondescript walls went by. A door swished open and then closed.

Suddenly he sensed it: the aura of a Jilectan. The feeling made his skin crawl. The man holding him spoke, his voice very respectful suddenly. "We have him, sir. No problem."

"Take him to his room." It was the cool, aristocratic enunciation of one of the aliens, and Jason shuddered at the memory of Lord Rakinxvor, trying to hunch closer to the man holding him, in spite of the smell.

The alien went on by, and Jason got a glimpse of him from the rear. He was dressed in a sheer, pink and orange body suit, and his hair was blond and curly, hanging loosely to his shoulders.

The Terran holding Jason strode on. A door swished open. He was lowered without ceremony to the deck. Footsteps retreated and Jason twisted around to see the Terran pausing beside Trevor. The Arcturian was busily tying the feet of the ex-Patrolman again. The Terran waited until they were securely bound, then grinned and gave Trevor a push. Jason cried out in protest as Trevor, unable to break his fall, crashed hard to the deck.

The Arcturian watched in silence as the Terran laughed uproariously at Trevor’s helplessness. "How's it feel t'be on the receiving end, 'trol?" he demanded.

"Come," the Arcturian said.

"I ain't finished yet."

"Come," the alien repeated. "His Lordship will be angry if you damage him before he can be questioned. Come."

The Terran shrugged and aimed a kick at Trevor. "See you later, 'trol," he said, and went out, the Arcturian beside him.

Jason wiggled over beside him. "Trev? Are you okay?"

"No permanent damage, Shorty." Trevor lifted his head, revealing a cut on one cheek. Jason grimaced. "Blast him! I'll kill that guy if I ever get loose!”

"Easy, kid. I've been through worse than that in my life." Trevor hunched himself up, and somehow made it to his knees. Then, somehow, he was bending over Jason. "I'm going to try to get your hands free. Don’t give up." He began to tug at the ropes with his teeth. Jason felt something warm drip on his fingers.

He lay still. Slowly the sense of despair was retreating. Trev hadn't given up, and he wouldn't either! Back on the ship, what seemed like years ago now, he had moved the blaster with his mind. Why couldn't he do the same with the ropes?

He concentrated, envisioning the coils, around Trevor's wrists in his mind. "Trev?"

Trevor paused in his task. "Yeah?"

"Just a minute. Turn around so I can see your hands."

Trevor obeyed, hunching painfully around on his knees. His hands came into view, the coils looping the muscular, tanned wrists, the knots cruelly tight, cutting into the flesh. Jason's weren't that tight. These people were going out of their way to be harsh with Trevor. The realization sent a pang through Jason. Why? Because he had once been a 'trol? That had seemed the reason where Granger was concerned. What did they plan to do with Trevor after the Jilectan questioned him? The thought sent a chill through Jason. Maybe Trevor would never make it back to whatever Jil world they were taking Jason.

Not that it mattered greatly, he told himself. They were both dead, and if Trevor died a little sooner, what of it?

He couldn't let it happen! Somehow Jason had to save him! Trying to be calm, Jason concentrated on the knot. He could feel it in his mind, and slowly tried to hook a mental finger through it. Pull, now. Pull!

Trevor gave an amazed exclamation. Gradually, Jason could feel the knot loosening. In his mind he felt it slowly giving way beneath the pressure of his telekinesis. It wasn't so hard after all. "Got it!"

The knot gave, and Trevor pulled hard. The ropes loosened. Rapidly he shed the loops and turned around, rubbing his wrists. His eyes were shining with unconcealed pride. "Man! You're an Alan Westover all over again!" Rapidly he untied his feet and leaned over Jason.

Moments later he was free. Trevor lifted him upright, one hand tousling his hair. "Well, if I had to be linked with someone, I'm sure glad it was you!"

"Me too!" Jason smiled shakily at him. "Now, is there any way out of here?"

Even at he spoke there was a jolt. Trevor's mouth hardened. "We just went into hyperspace, kid. We're on our way to Corala, I'll bet anything."

"Oh, Trev!"

"Easy. Let me think. The door’s guarded, no doubt." Trevor looked around the room, no doubt taking in every detail.

It was a small cubicle, about four meters square. There was a thin carpet of a dingy brown color beneath them. Against one wall was a table with two straight-backed chairs. Aside from the door through which they had entered, there was another, partially open, and revealing simple bath facilities. Trevor entered it and returned a moment later. "Nothing. A toilet, a sink and a shower."

"Trev?"

"Yeah?"

"These people -- who are they?"

Trevor looked worried. "I'm not sure, kid. They aren't 'trols, that's for damn sure. They might be bounty hunters, I guess. That would explain why they grabbed us.”

"But the Jil, Trev! Did you get a good look at him?"

Trevor's eyes strayed from his, "Well...I didn't really look at him very hard." Discomfort radiated from his mind. "Jils scare me silly.” He spoke suddenly and with a burst of candor. "They always have."

"I can understand that," Jason said slowly. "What I can't understand is how you've managed to kill two of them, scared as you are."

"You do what you have to," Trevor said. He sank down in one of the chairs. "Hm, what th'hell's in my pocket." He reached into the confiscated pants and drew out a wallet. "Well, what do you know? Must be that poor sap's whose pants I stole." He flipped it open.

Jason looked guiltily at the billfold. "Oh darn! It probably has the poor guy's license and credit cards in it, too, as though we didn't put him to enough trouble."

Trevor pulled out a wad of bills. "Wow! If we were going to rob someone, we sure picked the right guy. Look at this! Must be close to three hundred credits here!"

"Oh no! Trev, what'll we do?"

Trevor gave him a cynical smile. "Do? There's nothing we can do. We're not in any position to use it, ourselves." He jammed the money back in and flipped open the card section. "Hmm. Steve Lawson. There's his license. Take a good look, but don't feel sorry for him. I’d gladly switch places with him right now."

"Me, too." Jason glanced at the photo briefly, then frowned, examining the picture more closely. "He looks familiar."

"Course he does. We had him in the back seat of the car."

"No…" Jason studied the photo. "I never really looked at him while he was back there. This guy -- Trev, I know who he looks like!"

"Who?" Trevor didn't sound very interested.

"Look at him! Look at him closely!"

Trevor took the license and glanced at the picture. "A big, good looking sonofabitch. So what?"

"No! Look at him!"

"Shorty, not many of your acquaintances from Bellian's upper crust are my personal friends, you know --" Trevor's voice trailed off. He frowned. "That th…"

"Do you recognize him, Trev? Or am I completely crazy?”

Trevor swore. "It can't be!"

"Yes it can. Alan Westover was there! I spoke to him!"

Trevor's language deteriorated. He snatched up the wallet and flung it furiously across the room.

“Trev, please…”

Trevor ignored him, leaping to his feet, trembling with rage. Jason knew that look. He had experienced the results of Trevor's wild rages once before. Where would his anger turn this time? Jason hoped not on him.
Trevor was striding back and forth, swearing loudly and unrestrainedly. “We had him! We had him in our back seat! Our ticket to safety! And he was looking for us! And I throw him out in the snow, minus his pants and boots! Dammit t'hell, aren't we going to get *any* breaks on this venture?" Another string of profanity followed. "And now the Underground’s probably written us off, anyway -- our one remaining hope down the drain! I not only hold Alan Westover prisoner and try to take him to the Jils, but I mug his best friend and steal his wallet and clothes. Did you ever see such a damn fool?” Another string of colorful language. Jason huddled small against the bulkhead, watching him in awed silence.

Trevor stopped pacing abruptly and turned on Jason, eyes blazing. "Tell me! Have you ever seen such a fool -- such a total idiot?"

Jason stood up, trying to think of something to say. Trevor dissolved into another barrage of profanity.

"Trev?"

"What?” Trevor turned fiercely on him. "You got something to add, Shrimp?"

"No," Jason said sadly. "Except that I wish you wouldn't talk that way, sir."

Trevor glared at him. "Why not? It's true!"

“It’s not true." Jason went toward him. "You're not a fool, and you’re not an idiot.”

"That your opinion, twerp?"

"And I'm not a twerp! You call me that again, and I'll --"

"You'll what?”

Jason hesitated. “And I’ll punch you one.”

Trevor gaped at him, Jason managed a weak smile, "I’ll ask that guy with the nifty braids to help me."

Trevor’s expression relaxed, the anger diminishing slightly. "You liked those, huh?”

"Sure. Think I'll grow mine out and fix it the same way, only maybe with a couple of pink bows on the ends." Jason tilted his head sideways. "Whatcha think?"

Trevor chuckled. "I think a cute little empath is working hard to switch the subject."

"You're right," Jason said. "You're no fool, sir, except when you say you're one."

"I’ll be damned!" Trevor picked up the wallet from the deck, glanced at the picture again, and closed the billfold, snapping the fastener. He stuck it back in his pocket.

“Trev…"

“Yeah?”

There was another jolt. Trevor looked startled. "Now what the devil are they coming out of hyperspace for? We can't be anywhere near any other world yet."

Jason gulped, moving closer to his companion. "What do you suppose it means?"

"I don't know." Trevor put an arm around him. "What were you about to say?"

"What? Oh, I've been thinking, Trev, these guys don't know we’re untied. They might come back soon, and when they come in, they'll be off their guard."

Trevor nodded slowly. "That's a thought. Maybe we can get the jump on them." He strode across the room and picked up the coil of rope. "Come here, kid. Sit down on the floor."

Jason obeyed.

"Put the ropes around your wrists. Here, I’ll do it. I won't tie it tight: just loop it around enough to make it look like you're helpless. There. Now your feet." Rapidly he twisted the loosened coils around Jason's ankles. "Good. You can get those off easily, can't you?"

"Sure."

Trevor picked up his own ropes and looped them around his own ankles, then put his hands behind him, trying to twist them abound his wrists. Jason helped him with telekinesis, and the ex-patrolman threw him a wink. "How's it look?"

"Convincing."

"Good. Okay, when they come in, I'll jump 'em. You move when I do, and try to get your hands on a blaster. When you do, shoot. Don't wait and try to hold them off. Understand? It's them or us."

“I understand, Trev."

“Good. At the very least, we won’t let them take us alive. Public executions are no joke, believe me.”

“Yes, Trev." Jason swallowed. "How long do you think it'll be?"

"No way of knowing. We'll just have to hang on and wait."

Walt, Jason thought. Wait for death. He didn't know how long he could stand it.

But, as it turned out, the wait was only minutes. There was a click and the door hissed open. The Arcturian entered, a tray of food held in his clawed hands. The Terran with the braids followed. The door slid shut behind them.

One tray, Jason thought, again feeling the pang of fear for his friend. They didn't expect Trevor would live long enough to need food again. Why had they even bothered to bring him along at all?

He could feel the tension in Trevor. Their moment was approaching. The Arcturian was setting the tray on the table, and the man with the braids aimed a kick at Trevor. "You can watch him eat, 'trol!" He strode past the Corporal toward Jason.

Trevor moved, lashing upward with a booted foot. The boot caught the man behind the knees, kicking his feet from under him. He stumbled forward, and another kick caught him beneath the chin, clacking his teeth sharply together.

Jason scrambled sideways and caught the Arcturian around the ankles as the alien bent to assist his comrade. The Arcturian hissed horribly and clutched for Jason, who rolled sideways and scrambled to his feet. The alien was snatching for the blaster at his hip. Jason also grabbed for it, though not with his hands. He felt his mental fingers strike it, sending it spinning sideways. The alien hissed again, grasping for Jason, who scrambled away from him on hands and knees, making for the blaster. Trevor rolled across the deck, locked in a titanic embrace with the Terran. Jason rolled to his feet, ducking beneath the claws of the Arcturian again, and reached frantically for the weapon with telekinesis. It slid across the deck toward him, leaped upward, and smacked solidly into his hands, just as the Arcturian tackled him, throwing him hard to the deck again.

Somehow he kept his grip on the weapon. The alien's weight crushed him into the deck, and in sheer desperation, he thrust the muzzle of the blaster against his assailant's scaly side and pulled the trigger.

The weapon hummed and the Arcturian went slack, weight still crushing him. Frantically, Jason wiggled free and scrambled to his feet.

But Trevor was also getting to his feet, grinning. One eye was swelling, and added to the cut on his cheek was another one on his temple, but in his hand he held his former assailant's blaster.

"You okay?"

"Yes, Trev."

"You linked with me, you know; in fact, we're still linked."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't mind. Feels kind of good, really. Let's go."

"Where?"

"I'm going to try to find our lifeboat." He glanced at the two men on the floor. "Hmm; think I might try on our gaudy friend’s clothes. Make me less conspicuous if the rest of the crew is dressed like that. Help me with him."

Jason yanked the clothing from the braided Terran. "What about me?"

"There's nothing we can do about you, Shorty. You'll just have to pretend to be a prisoner. Maybe nobody will ask questions." He began to yank on the flowing pantaloons. "Man! I can't say much for this guy's taste in clothes! What an outfit!" He sealed the shirt and rammed his feet into the boots. "How do I look?"

"Awful. You need some braids."

"No time to grow 'em. Sorry." Trevor gave him a strained grin and took the blaster from his hand ramming it into his belt. "Better let me have this. Prisoners shouldn't carry blasters."

"Okay."

"Stay close beside me." Trevor fired two stunbolts at the unconscious figures on the deck, then went to the door and listened. "Think anyone's out there?"

Jason listened. "There's a guard, isn't there? I think I can hear him breathing.”

Trevor chuckled softly. "Not through this door you can't. If he didn't hear all the racket of that fight, then you damn sure can't hear him breathing."

"Oh." Jason felt silly. "Well, maybe there's no one then."

"I'm sure he's there. It makes sense. Okay, you're going to have to open it."

"How?" Jason stared at the door. There was no visible sign of a handle or combination. "It must be voice operated. I can't."

"Yes you can, Terran --" He grinned, pulling back his lips in a fair imitation of the Arcturian's grin, "...psssychic. Just like you untied our hands. Find that lock in your mind and make it move."

"But I could see the ropes, I can't see this."

"Yes you can. Close your eyes and look for it. You'll see it." Trevor's voice held no doubt. "Come on, kid. Hurry. It's our only chance."

Jason closed his eyes and tried to obey the Corporal’s instructions. It was surprisingly easy. The lock formed before his eyes, and he saw the mechanism that moved it. Again he formed the mental fingers, reached, and pressed.

The lock clicked and the door slid smoothly open.

The guard beside the opening glanced around, straight into the muzzle of Trevor's confiscated blaster. His jaw dropped.

"In," Trevor grated.

The man entered, hands held high.

"Down on the floor. Jason, get his blaster."

Jason obeyed. "Don't kill him, Trev."

"Yessir, empath." Trevor fired a stunbolt and the guard went slack. "Okay, that does it." Methodically he stunned the others again. "Give me the blaster."

"Let me keep it, sir. I'll put it under my shirt. You might need help."

"Okay. Keep it out of sight." Trevor took his arm and yanked him brutally through the door. "Look abused, kid."

Jason hung his head, and let Trevor pull him along. The door slid shut as they exited.

They headed down the corridor, the ex-corporal yanking him along and cursing when he stumbled. Beings passed them, all clad in outlandish, colorful clothing. There were all species, Jason noticed—Arcturians, many Terrans, Procyons, a horrible tenticaled thing which must be a Tormheit, and lots of others which he couldn't identify. His spine tingled as he sensed the Jilectan's presence again. "Trev," he breathed, "the Jil!"

The grasp on his arm tightened. Ahead a door opened and a Procyon emerged, carrying a tray in his clawed hands. His dark, round eyes rested on them, then widened. Scraggily feathers lifted on his head. His beak opened.

Trevor fired and a stunbolt hummed. The being dropped, and Trevor broke into a run, dragging Jason with him.

As they passed the door it slid open again. Jason glanced back and cried out a warning as the Jilectan stepped through. His hand flashed beneath his shirt, drawing out the blaster. The alien was moving, drawing his own weapon just as Jason fired.

The weapon hummed, the stunbeam striking the alien dead center, but the Jilectan did not fall. He gave an annoyed grunt and his own weapon hummed. Darkness came down like a black curtain falling.

**********

Slowly Jason swam back to consciousness, feeling again the agony of the stunner aftereffects. Nearby someone was groaning. Trevor.

He lay still, trying to wait patiently for the headache and nausea to subside.

His hands were fastened behind him with what felt like Patrol restrainers.

Tears of pain and frustration flooded his eyes. Damned Jils! This was all their fault! He'd done nothing! He'd been walking home from school, minding his own business. Stupid, slimy, stinking Jils! Why didn't they just leave him alone?

He compressed his lips and fought back the tears. Beside him, Trevor was gagging and retching, his distress reaching Jason clearly and adding to his own misery.

At last the sensation subsided slightly and he turned his head. They were back in their room. Trevor lay beside him, hands secured with an odd-looking device that was sort of a cross between Terran handcuffs and Patrol restrainers, and clad now only in shorts and undershirt.

"Trev," Jason whispered.

Trevor rolled over to face him, his expression miserable and angry. He gave a short, pithy description of their captor's ancestry.

The door slid open and the Arcturian entered, again accompanied by the braided Terran, clad once again in the clothing Trevor had confiscated. Jason could read no expression on the alien’s face, but the Terran’s was hard and angry. One of the man's eyes was surrounded by a dark bruise, and his lower lip was swollen, no doubt the result of his struggle with Trevor. The door closed behind them.

The Terran drew his blaster, and fingered the settings. He glared at the two prisoners. "You trenchcrawlers!" he whispered. "Get me in trouble with His Lordship, will you?"

"Do not harm the pssychic, Gransher," the Arcturian said.

"I won't. You think I'm crazy?"

"Occassionally," the Arcturian replied expressionlessly.

The Terran stepped past Jason and looked down at Trevor. "He said not to kill him yet. You think he'd mind if I just made him a little uncomfortable?"

"Probably not," the Arcturian said, his tone still expressionless.

Jason felt panic gather in his throat. "You leave him alone!"

"Oh, absolutely, sir!" The Terran grinned savagely. "And if I don't, no doubt you'll take off the security bars?" He laughed. "Try, my little friend. Try your best."

"You leave him alone! I'm the psychic! I took the ropes off of him!"

"Oh, sure. I know that. Can you see him okay, psychic? I want you to watch."

"Perhapss ziss iss not wisse..." the Arcturian began.

"Shut up." The Terran surveyed Trevor thoughtfully. Somehow Jason made it to a sitting position.

"Leave him alone, damn you!"

"My, my! The little fellow knows how to swear!" The Terran grinned nastily. "Now let's see here --"

"Shorty," Trevor said, his voice tight, "close your eyes. You can't help me."

The Terran surveyed Trevor thoughtfully, and then placed the blaster against his forehead. A needle beam spat, sheering off a lock of hair and exposing the scar where the brand had been removed. The Terran glanced at it and grinned.

"Ex-slave, huh? Think I might just fix it back the way it was."

The cuffs! He must get them off! Jason concentrated, feeling an odd surge of power through him. Telekinetic energy reached for the bindings and wrenched hard. The device gave, and he caught it with one hand, swinging the bars violently around with all his pent up desperation behind the blow. The bindings caught the braided Terran across the jaw. His head snapped sideways, and the blaster spat, the beam missing Trevor, but singing Jason across one cheek.

He hardly felt it, scrambling to his feet, and reaching for the Terran's blaster with telekinesis. The weapon leaped upward and landed in his hand.

"Freezze, Terran pssychic."

Jason obeyed, seeing the Arcturian's blaster centered on him. The alien's eyes were dilated, like those of a cat in a dark room, but the blaster, held tightly between his scaled hands, never wavered.

The door hissed open and the Jilectan strode through.

For the slow count of ten the scene held static. The newcomer's cold, electrically blue eyes surveyed the scene with obvious surprise.

Then the Jilectan spoke. "Explain, Puvvir."

"Yess, M'lord." The Arcturian's tone held no expression. "Ziss boy jusst removed hiss ssecurity barss wizz telekinessiss. We did not expect ziss, naturally, and zee boy sstruck Gransher wizz zem before I could prevent it. He zen ssnatched Gransher's blasster wizz telekinessiss.

The Jilectan's gaze turned on Jason. "Put the blaster down, my little psychic."

Slowly Jason obeyed. The weapon stirred, then slid across the floor to the Jilectan, who bent to pick it up. He stuck the weapon carelessly in his belt, eyes on Jason. "Who taught you how to use your powers, my little psychic?"

"No one." Jason swallowed. "Trev -- the Corporal gave me a few pointers. Oh, sir, I --" He glanced at the braided Terran, who was just beginning to stir. “That man was going to burn my friend. I had to do something! Please don't hurt Trev! He had nothing to do with this. I’m the psychic!" He stopped, eyes wavering beneath the Jilectan's fixed gaze. "Please?" he ended weakly.

"You removed a security bar with telekinesis, Terran?" The Jilectan's voice held no anger that Jason could detect.

Jason hesitated, glancing under his eyelashes at the alien. "Well, yes. I mean, I've learned how to use the telekinesis, sir. I unlocked the door and untied the ropes with it, too." His voice trailed off. "Please, sir, what are you going to do with Corporal Trevor?"

The Jilectan glanced down at the Corporal, then at Jason. "Remove his bars with telekinesis, Terran. Show me."

Jason looked at his friend. Trevor's eyes met his, confused and scared.

"Take the bars off your friend, Terran psychic," the Jilectan repeated.

Jason gulped. "Please; you won't let that man hurt him if I do as you say?"

The alien's handsome face did not change. "We shall see, Terran. If you co-operate, perhaps not."

Jason knelt beside Trevor and placed a hand on his wrist. The mechanism formed easily in his mind, and telekinetic energy seemed to brim from his hands where they rested on the Corporal's wrists.

It was easy. The mechanism moved beneath his mental fingers with only a little effort and the bars were suddenly loose. He removed them gently, rubbing Trevor's chafed wrists. "Are you okay, sir?"

"Yeah, kid, fine.” The Corporal's voice was unnaturally calm. "Yourself?"

"I'm okay."

"That damned kook got you with the beam. Looks like he just missed your eye."

Jason touched the burn. "I hardly felt it."

“Give me the bar.” The alien's voice held no emotion. Jason picked up the device and rose to his feet, handing it to the alien. He shrank back as the Jilectan's fingers brushed his. Trevor sat up and slowly got to his knees, his eyes downcast.

The Jilectan examined the bar with interest. On the deck the braided Terran groaned and lifted his head.

"Get up, you fool," the Jilectan said emotionlessly.

The Terran pushed himself to hands and knees, groaning. The alien Lord nudged him with the toe of a scarlet boot. "Get up, Granger."

Granger got to his feet, wiping blood from his chin, then cupped a hand over his mouth. He didn't look at the Jilectan.

His Lordship surveyed Jason a moment longer, then spoke.

"Bring them to my chamber," he ordered. "No restraints, but guard them closely."

"Sir --" Jason began desperately.

"And you are to leave the Corporal alone for now, Granger. Understand?"

"Yes, M’Lord."

"And you, psychic --" The Jilectan reached out, catching Jason beneath the chin and bringing his face forcibly up. "If you attempt to escape again, you will be punished." He turned and strode from the room.

Trevor sank back on his heels, head bowed. Jason's knees felt weak, and he dropped beside him, resting his face against Trevor's shoulder. The Corporal put an arm around him, holding him firmly.

“Get up.” It was the Arcturian.

Together they obeyed. The alien thrust a bundle of clothing at Trevor. “Get dressed. Quickly.”

Trevor began to pull on the clothing, his hands clumsy. Jason helped him, then slipped a hand into his. The corporal grasped it tightly.

"You will walk ahead of me," the alien said emotionlessly. "If you try to escape, or refuse to go, you will be stunned and carried. Walk."

They walked. As they went out the door, Jason saw Granger follow them, one hand still cupped over his mouth.

They traversed a carpeted hallway and entered a large, lavishly furnished room. There was a thick pelt of furry carpet on the deck, and lamps with red shades were clustered on several tables. In a large, stately chair, set upon a raised dais, was the Jilectan they had seen only moments ago. A female of the same species reclined beside the chair, a goblet of wine cradled between her slim fingers.

The Arcturian pushed them forward. "Kneel," he hissed.

Trevor obeyed at once. Jason slowly followed his example, The Arcturian stood back, his weapon still leveled at the two prisoners.

The Jilectan gestured gracefully. “You may rise. Corporal Trevor, approach me.”

They stood up, and Trevor obeyed, Jason stood where he was, glancing irresolutely back at the Arcturian. The face of the scaled alien remained unreadable.

Trevor paused at the dais steps, but the Jilectan gestured again, motioning him closer. The female Jilectan surveyed his big figure appraisingly.

"Kneel," the alien Lord commanded.

Trevor knelt, eyes downcast. The Jilectan leaned forward and placed a hand on the Corporal's face. Trevor started slightly, then became still. Jason, from where he stood, could just make out his closed eyes and set expression.

After a few moments the Jilectan straightened up, removing his hand. Trevor remained motionless, eyes down.

"Puvvir," the Jilectan said.

"Yess, My Lord?"

"Take Corporal Trevor back to his room. I wish to speak to the boy alone."

Trevor rose, still not looking up, and backed down the dais steps Jason watched as the Arcturian led him toward the door. Granger was waiting outside. He knew it beyond the shadow of a doubt.

Without considering the possible consequences, Jason ran after him and caught his arm. "No! Granger’s out there!” He turned desperately to the Jilectan. “Please, sir! He’ll hurt him, maybe kill him!”

“Don't antagonize him, Shorty," Trevor spoke between clenched teeth.

"Please!" Jason begged. "Can't you order Puvvir to make that other guykeep away? Please, sir?”

"One moment, Puvvir," the Jilectan said.

The Arcturian paused, Trevor beside him. The Jilectan gestured to Jason. "Come here, Terran psychic."

Jason hesitated, and again Trevor spoke between his teeth. "Obey him, kid."

Jason approached the dais. The Jilectan watched him as he paused before the steps, uncertain. "Yes sir?" His voice squeaked slightly.

The alien smiled thinly. "The Corporal is of no more use to me, Jason. I have no affection for Patrolmen. There is no reason for me, to keep him alive, now."

Jason’s heart rose in his throat. "Please, sir…"

The Jilectan gestured him to silence. "However, illogical as it appears, you apparently harbor some affection for the man. I find this interesting. Trevor did not save you for any reason other than to ensure his own safety, you know?"

Jason swallowed. "I know."

"The fact that he developed some affection for you after associating with you is expected. You are undoubtedly an empath."

"But sir --"

"Be still." The Jilectan spoke to the Arcturian again. "Take the Corporal back to his room, Puvvir, and see that he is not harmed for the present. Be certain Granger understands this as well."

"Yes, my Lord."

The Corporal was led out. The door closed, and Jason was left alone with the two Jilectans.

The alien Lord gestured again. "Come up here, Terran psychic. Your name is Jason Sweeney, I believe?"

"Yes sir." Jason mounted the steps and stood before the alien, wondering if he was supposed to kneel again. The Jilectan female laughed softly.

"He is very cunning, My Lord," she said softly. Uncurling gracefully, she moved over to Jason, examining him closely. Instinctively Jason started back as one of her fingers came up to trace the line of his cheekbone. "Freckles! He has freckles! And what lovely hair color!" Her finger toyed with a stray lock on Jason's forehead. "He is quite delightful, My lord—although somewhat dirty."

The male Jilectan spoke suddenly in a language Jason didn't recognize. The female paused, her lower lip coming out in a pout. The male spoke again and she rose, still pouting, and glided down the steps. She paused at a side door, uttered a single short phrase in the same language, and went out. The door clicked shut behind her.

Silence. The male Jilectan smiled faintly and turned back to Jason. Jason started to retreat slightly, but the alien reached out with blurring speed and caught his wrist.

“Be seated, Jason.”

Jason sat on a small stool which the alien indicated. The Jilectan Lord surveyed him, his lips still smiling faintly. The door opened and Jason jerked around, but the newcomer was only a Procyon: the one he and Trevor had met in the corridor from his appearance. The newcomer was tall, and his feathers scraggled sparsely around his face. He carried a tray in his hands, and approached the Jilectan with easy deference placed the tray on a small table and poured a red liquid into an ornate jeweled goblet.

“A glass for the boy, too, Le Frit.”

“My Lord.” The Procyon produced another goblet, poured, and handed it to Jason. The boy took it, glancing nervously at the Jilectan. What was going on here? He had fully expected to be in the interrogation chair by now. This Jilectan was certainly different from Lord Rakinxvor. Jason hadn’t realized Jils could be different, but obviously, they were.

The Jilectan dismissed the Procyon. “Leave the bottle and go, Le Frit.”

“Yesh shir.”

“And Le Frit --”

“Shir?”

“Your crown feathers are badly in need of a shampoo. Attend to it at once, and do not appear before me again in that disgusting condition.”

“Yesh, My Lord. Beg pardon, shir.” The Procyon bowed and went out.

As the door closed behind him, the Jilectan took a long drink from the goblet, savored the taste of the stuff for a moment and then swallowed. He glanced at Jason. “Try it, Terran psychic.”

Cautiously, Jason sipped from the container. It was wine of some sort, and very potent, but if nothing else, the stuff would help his dry throat. He took a second, more generous swallow, coughing slightly as he did so.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes sir. What --” He stopped. Should he presume to ask questions? Probably safer not to. Quickly he looked down.

“You were about to ask what it is, I assume?” The alien’s voice was amused. “It is Riskellian moonshine, little psychic, and over twenty years old. Quite expensive, I assure you.” He took another generous swallow.

The name meant little to Jason, although he knew, of course, that many wines increased in quality with their age. His parents, however, had been teetotalers, and he was not familiar with the different brands. But at least the goblet gave him something to do with his hands. He clutched it between them and stared fixedly at the toes of his tennis shoes, aware that the Jilectan was still watching him closely.

“I still fail to see,” the Jilectan said abruptly, “why you appear so attached to this patrolman. Is it not true that he was instrumental in your capture and subsequent mistreatment?”

Jason looked up. “Yes.”

“Then why should you be so loyal to him?”

“I don’t know,” Jason said truthfully. “We became friends later.”

“Because you are an empath. You make friends easily, do you not?”

“Well, yes sir.” Jason took a moment to examine his feelings. Trevor was his friend: the best friend he’d ever had. There was no reason for it. The fact simply was.

The Jilectan sipped from the goblet. Jason cleared his throat. “My Lord, what are --” his courage failed him, and he fell silent, lowering his eyes again. The alien reached down, hooking a finger beneath his chin and bringing his face up.

“Yes, psychic? Ask your question.”

“What -- what are you going to do with us?”

The Jilectan’s face split into a broad, very handsome smile. “I am not going to put you in the execution chair, if that is what worries you, little psychic.”

Jason could hardly believe his ears. “You’re not going to kill us?”

“I am not going to kill you, little Jason. I made no promises concerning your friend.”

“But you’re a Jilectan. I thought the Autonomy killed all Terran psychics.”

“Ah, yes, that is so, Jason. Are you not happy that I am not a member of this foolish Autonomy?”

“You’re not?”

“I am not. I am a pirate -- at least, that is what my wanted posters name me. I call nobody master, little psychic, not even the Warlord, himself. I make my own rules. This idiotic law of my species to extinguish all Terran psychics is an incredible waste of power and potential. Every Terran psychic I have yet contacted has been more powerful than I -- oh, yes, Jason, I admit that freely. You are more powerful. In fact, you are certainly the most powerful telekinetic I have ever encountered.”

Jason felt almost dizzy with relief. “And we aren’t going to be killed?”

“Certainly not—at least, you are not, Jason.”

“Please don’t kill Trevor, sir.”

“I repeat what I said earlier, Jason, Corporal Trevor is useless to me. He is, however, a commanding, intelligent man, and likely to assist you should you attempt to escape. I would not like that.”

“I won’t try to escape, sir!” Jason jumped to his feet, forgetting the wine, which slopped from the goblet, a few drops falling on the leg of the Jilectan’s bodysuit. “Oh dear! I’m sorry, sir!”

The alien brushed absently at the spots. "Sit down, psychic."

Jason sat. "My Lord, I promise I'll do whatever you want me to do, if you just won't kill Trev -- I mean, Corporal Trevor."

The Jilectan smiled benignly. "I thought it was possible you might make me such an offer, my little psychic. Very well. Your friend is safe, so long as you obey me. But if you betray me, or attempt again to escape…" His eyes hardened to points of steel, " -- Corporal Trevor will die quite painfully. Most of the beings aboard this ship, including myself, have no love for Patrolmen -— or even ex-Patrolmen. Need I say more?"

Jason shook his head.

"Excellent. Then all will be well." Once again the Jilectan's expression became pleasant. "Perhaps I should introduce myself. I am Lord Blashvor, first son of the late Lord Trashvor. My father died some time back -- approximately ten Corallan years ago." He paused, frowning. "You are not drinking your wine, Jason. Do you not like it?"

"Oh, yes, sir. It's fine." Jason took a tiny swallow from the glass and coughed a little. "I'm just not used to anything so strong."

"This is not strong." The Jilectan drained his glass. "Perhaps you would prefer something else?

"This is fine. Thank you, sir."

"Very well." The Jilectan refilled his own glass and sipped thoughtfully. "You are an empath, are you not, Jason?"

"I don't know, sir. Trevor says I am, and he knows about Terran psychics, so I suppose he's probably right."

"I would guess that he is. Most Terrans, unfortunately, are, and from the way which you won the man over -- well, that in itself points to it. Too bad…"

"Why, sir?"

"Because the quality makes you too foolishly compassionate, Jason. Roland was an empath, and in the end it killed him."

"Roland?"

"The psychic who's place you are taking. He hesitated to kill a dangerous enemy, and the enemy killed him, instead." Again Blashvor regarded him thoughtfully. "You have taught yourself to use your talents rather crudely so far. I will train you to become more adept with them, and will also teach you to shield, although you must never shield your mind from me."

"No, sir." Jason finished the wine and set the goblet down. "That was very good, sir." He hesitated to add that his head, was spinning slightly, and that he felt a bit drowsy.

The alien seemed to sense it. He smiled gently. "You may go, Jason. You will be taken to comfortable quarters now, and no one shall harm you, or your friend, unless you attempt to escape." He touched a button on the chair arm and the Procyon servant entered.

He had apparently attempted to shampoo, as the Jilectan had instructed, for the feathers on his head were wet and still, dripping. The scalp beneath the sparse growth appeared red and raw, the skin flaking away in several, spots.

Blashvor spoke. "Send the little Terran to his quarters, Le Frit. Feed him, and his friend, and allow them to rest. They are both to be treated well."

"Yesh shir." The Procyon gestured to Jason.

Jason stood up, and the dizziness caught at him, making him stagger to one side. The Jilectan's big hand closed firmly around his upper arm, steadying him.

"Excuse me, sir," Jason stammered, feeling embarrassed. "I don't know what's wrong."

"It is the wine, my little psychic. I surmise you do not drink very often."

"No, sir."

"The effects will pass quickly once you have eaten something."

The Procyon came forward, taking Jason's arm and helping him down the steps of the dais. As they reached the door, Jason turned back, realizing hazily that he was neglecting something.

"Lord Blashvor --"

"Yes, Jason?"

"You -- you've been very nice. Thank you."

A benevolent smile spread across the alien's face. He did not reply. Le Frit led Jason from the room, paused as the door slid shut, then scratched vigorously at his head. Water mixed with dandruffy-like flakes flew in all directions.

"Ah, that ish better." He pressed a control on the wall, and an instant later the braided Terran appeared. "Granger, take the child to hish room."

Jason shrank back. "Where's the Arcturian guy?"

"He ish guarding your friend. Go with Granger, Jason. He will not harm you."

"I don't like him." Jason shrank back against the Procyon. "Can't you take me?"

"I must go prepare your food. Go, now. No one will harm you. Hish Lordship hash ordered it."

Reluctantly Jason nodded. "Okay."

Granger grasped his wrist and strode down the corridor, pulling Jason along with him. "Well, what'd His Lordship have to say, my little psychic rat? He going to turn your friend out the airlock without a suit?"

Jason glared up at him. "No!"

"He isn't, huh? Then what is he going to do with him? Blashvor don't tolerate 'trols on his ship, you know. We only brought him along so we could have some fun with him. Blashvor don't care."

“Yes he does!” He ordered that Trevor be left alone --especially by you, Mr. Granger!"

Granger laughed. "That so?"

"Yes, that's so! He promised me Trev wouldn't be hurt as long as I do as he says and don't try to escape. Ouch! Hey, take it easy!"

Granger yanked him hard, his grasp like iron on Jason's wrist. “Move, you little rat!”

"Ow!" Jason tried to pull his wrist free, and the grip tightened cruelly. Granger shook him hard, rattling his teeth together.

"Stop it, Terran rat!"

Jason cried out as the grasp tightened even more, crushing his wrist. Granger laughed. "Ain't quite as strong as you think you are, eh, psychic?"

Suddenly Jason was very angry. Granger was a lout and a bully, and was asking for trouble. Jason didn't have to put up with his tactics anymore. Blashvor had promised him protection, hadn’t he?

Still a little giddy from the wine, he reached telekinetically for one of the red, sparkling ear hoops the man wore, hooked a mental finger through it, and yanked.

The hoop jerked hard, tearing the earlobe. Granger gave a bellow of pain, flung Jason aside, and clutched his ear, howling. Jason slammed hard against a bulkhead, the impact knocking the breath out of him. He half fell sideways, gasping. His adversary emitted a roar of fury and bent, grasping him by the hair and dragging him up. Again Jason smelled the dreadful odor as the man's breath puffed into his face, and this time he recognized the smell as some sort of liquor. So Granger had been drinking, and his judgment, therefore, was apt to be faulty. The fact made him far more dangerous than Jason had first realized. Perhaps the Jilectan's order would not restrain him after all. A fist lifted.

Trevor's face appeared behind Granger, and a large muscular arm encircled his adversary's throat and contracted. Granger gave a surprised croak and dropped Jason, clawing at the strangling arm. Trevor caught one of the man's wrists and twisted, still holding him immobile with the other arm. Granger gave a choked scream.

"Freezze, bozz of you." It was the Arcturian, and Jason, from his position on the deck, saw the alien stride into view, blaster leveled at the two men.

"Releasse him, Corporal Trevor."

Trevor hesitated, then obeyed. "You okay, Shorty?" He sounded only a little breathless.

"Sure!" Jason gasped.

Granger started for him again, cursing.

"Do not touch him, Gransher." The Arcturian's voice was perfectly calm. Granger turned angrily.

"What the hell's wrong with you, fish? He's in my charge!"

"Lord Blashvor has issued orderss zat he iss not to be harmed."

"He was trying to get away! Don't be a damn fool!" Again Granger reached for Jason, then froze as the Arcturian spoke warningly.

"You will not touch him, Gransher. You have been drinking again. Blashvor will be very angry."

Granger glared at him. "I'll get you for this, you damned codfish!"

Puvvir ignored the insult. He stepped over to a bulkhead and pressed a control. "Lord Blashvor?"

The Jilectan's voice responded. "What is it, Puvvir?"

"Zere hass been a ssmall inssident out here in corridor 5. Gransher wass attacking zee psychic boy, and sstatesss zat he wass trying to esscape. I prevented ze shild from being inshured, but am unssure what to do now. May I requesst your assisstansse, My Lord?"

"Bring them here, Puvvir," Blashvor's voice said. "I shall investigate."

"Very well, ssir." Puvvir gestured with the weapon. "Corporal, assisst zee boy."

Trevor bent and lifted Jason to his feet. "You okay now, kid?"

"Sure." Jason was still trying to get his breath back, every gasp a half groan. Trevor put an arm around him. The Arcturian marched them back the way they had come, Granger stalking along beside them. They reached the door of the Jilectan's apartments, and Granger paused, his eyes flicking nervously toward the Arcturian.

"Aw, c'mon, Puvvir, be a pal. You don't want t'get me in trouble, do you? Look, you can have my cut on our next raid if you’ll just forget this happened, okay? Tell his Lordship it was all a mistake—that we straightened it out --"

"No," Puvvir said.

“Aw, c'mon."

"Tell your own lies, Gransher."

The Terran swore. "Damn you, codfish! I will! Just don't blow the whistle on me, okay?"

"If you have any ssensse," the alien said calmly, "you will confess your misstake and beg hiss forgiveness." He reached past Granger and knocked.

The Jilectan's voice spoke out of the air. "Enter."

Trevor opened the door and they stepped through, Puvvir still following with the blaster. The Jilectan was standing in the center of the room, face grim. He glanced at Jason, then at Trevor. "Allow the boy to sit down, Corporal," he said, indicating a chair.

Trevor boosted Jason into the seat. "Take it easy, kid," he whispered.

"What happened, Granger," Blashvor inquired coldly.

"The boy tried to escape, sir," Granger said. "I restrained him."

"That's a lie!" Jason retorted hotly.

"It’s not a lie, sir. He tried to pull free, and when I restrained him, he used telekinesis to rip out my earring. I'm sorry, sir, but I lost my temper with him when he did that, and --"

"Granger," the Jilectan said quietly, "you know that you are not to use shielding in my presence. Lower it at once."

Granger swallowed. "Sir --"

Blashvor’s mouth hardened. "You are lying to me, Granger."

"No, m'lord, I --"

The Jilectan stepped forward and caught Jason's arm, bringing it up, and displaying the livid red marks of Granger’s fingers on the boy's wrist. "Is this your work, Terran?"

"He was trying to get away, sir," the man whined.

Ridiculously, Jason felt a touch of pity for his former assailant. Beside the Jilectan he no longer appeared huge and terrifying, but rather small and frightened.

The Jilectan spoke to Jason. "Were you trying to get away, my little psychic?"

"No, sir." Jason swallowed, feeling a touch of fear at the Jilectan's expression. "But maybe he thought I was. He was holding my wrist so tight it hurt me, and I tried to get loose."

The Jilectan smiled benignly. "Do not try to protect him, Jason. You know his actions were deliberate, as well as I."

Granger went white. "My lord…"

"He is a fool," Blashvor said emotionlessly. "I have no room for fools on my ship." The jeweled, six-fingered hand moved suddenly, drawing the blaster from its ornate holster. The weapon cracked once, and Granger was thrown backwards to crumple lifeless to the carpet.

Jason felt the sear on his own chest, and heard himself scream. He fell backwards. clutching the spot with both hands, and hearing Trevor's exclamation of concern. Trevpr bent over him, catching him firmly by the shoulders. "Shorty!"

Blashvor glanced at Jason impassively. "You are indeed an empath, my little psychic," he said. "Perhaps I should have warned you, although if I had, no doubt you would have tried again to defend him. Ah, you appear quite ill. It will pass in a moment.” He glanced at Granger’s lifeless form. “Regrettable, but necessary. The man was no longer to be trusted.” He spoke to the Procyon, who had appeared through another doorway. “Notify the cleanup crew, Le Frit.”

"Yesh shir." The Procyon vanished.

The Jilectan spoke to the Arcturian. “Your performance is commended, Puvvir.”

"Zank you, ssir."

“Take the boy and the Corporal to their room now.”

“Yess ssir.” The Arcturian holstered his blaster and gestured. “Come wiz me, if you please, shentlemen.”

They exited, and the Arcturian followed, one clawed hand still resting lightly on the hilt of his weapon. Trevor put a firm hand on Jason’s shoulder. “You okay now, Squirt?”

“Yes, Trev.” Jason took a deep breath, pressing a hand to his stomach. "I didn’t expect him to do that.”

"I did. The guy was an idiot to try to lie to a Jil."

They strode down the corridor, ascended the lift, and once again traversed a hallway. The Arcturian stopped them before a door. "Ziss iss your room now, Shentlemen."

They went in, Jason still feeling slightly weak. Blashvor’s drastic action with Granger over what seemed to him to be a relatively minor offense had shaken him considerably. He had certainly not liked Granger much, in fact, quite the contrary, but to see him burned down so ruthlessly had not only shocked him inexpressibly, but had made him wonder how Blashvor would react if Jason, himself, erred in his duties.

He decided firmly that he would never attempt to deceive the alien, no matter what. Blashvor might well have taken offense at his little half lies about Granger. Jason had known well that Granger was hurting him deliberately, and that the man had been aware that his prisoner was not trying to get away.

The new room was larger than the one they had occupied before, and much more comfortably furnished, with soft, furry carpeting, wide beds, and plush armchairs. Trevor glanced around appreciatively. “Looks like we’ve taken a step up, kid.”

"Yes." Jason glanced perfunctorily around and then spoke to the Arcturian. "Puvvir?

“Yess?”

"Did Blashvor kill Granger because of me?"

The alien’s gaze met his squarely. "Doess it matter, psychic?"

Jason shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Well, he did hurt me, and I wanted him punished, but not killed.”

No flicker of emotion from those yellow, reptilian eyes. “Do not trouble your empathic little mind about Gransher, Terran. Hiss deazz was inevitable. He was a fool and a drunkard. My master had warned him many times. Ziss sship hass no facilities for rehabilitation. You were not zee cause of Mr. Gransher’s deazz, little pssychic. He caused it, himself.”

Jason nodded. "Okay. Thanks.”

"It iss nozzing but zee truzz."

A knock sounded on the door and the Arcturian opened it, admitting the tattered Procyon. The creature set trays and a large bottle of wine on the table and withdrew without a word. The Arcturian also withdrew, and the door clicked shut behind him.

**********

tbc