The Reluctant Pirate: 13/?
by Linda Garrick and Nancy Smith
Chapter 16
They re-entered the control room to find the entire crew still face down on the deck, hands secured behind them. One of the pirates came toward them, bowing respectfully to Blashvor. "Sir, everyone denies knowing anything about the setup. An escape craft is missing, and according to these prisoners, one crewmember left the control room in a hurry during the attack. He is still unaccounted for -- a new sign-on by the name of Dennis Maverick."
"Casualties?" Blashvor inquired.
"Two dead: Paddy, who was caught by the sonic bomb, and Zeb, who was shot during the bridge takeover. The man who got him was executed, of course. Three blaster burns, and the other seven who were with you when the bomb activated." His eyes flicked to Jason, then back to the Jilectan. "They're all doing okay, sir."
"Good. Dispose of the prisoners as we discussed earlier. No brutality, mind you." His gaze swept the assembled pirates.
"What're you going to do with them, sir?" Jason inquired. Trevor poked him in the ribs, and Jason flushed, realizing he should not interrupt while the Jilectan and servant were speaking. But Blashvor glanced at him and smiled tolerantly.
"They will not be harmed, my empathic little psychic. Do not be afraid for them. Come now." He turned and strode from the room. Jason hurried after him, accompanied by Fenton and Trevor.
During their time aboard the vessel, a connecting tube had been placed between the airlocks of the two ships. They now crossed it, closed the outer lock, waited while the room pressurized, then re-entered the pirate ship. Jason followed Blashvor down to his suite, Trevor and Fenton striding along behind. As they reached the door, a whistle sounded, informing them of hyperspace in five minutes.
They entered the Jilectan's quarters after the alien, Jason glancing uncertainly at Trevor. Blashvor seated himself, waving Jason to a chair. "Fenton, you may leave us. I wish to speak with Jason alone."
"Yes sir." Fenton went to the door, looking a little hurt, glanced back, and then went out. Trevor started to follow, but Blashvor spoke.
"Not you, Corporal."
Trevor stopped, turning back. Blashvor beckoned, and the Corporal approached, his head bowed, and paused before the chair. "Yes M'Lord?"
The Jilectan spoke quietly. "Your actions during this unfortunate raid have altered my opinion of you to some degree, Corporal Trevor. Patrolman that you are, you displayed extraordinary courage and disregard for personal safety when you saved my life and the lives of my two psychics." He paused, contemplating the Terran thoughtfully for a moment.
"It also appears," he resumed suddenly, "that you are important to Jason's psychic abilities in a way I never realized, and still do not understand." Again he paused, and Trevor hesitantly raised his eyes. Blashvor smiled reservedly. "Since you have proven yourself trustworthy, I am now appointing you Jason's personal bodyguard. I can think of no one better qualified for the job. You always seem to know his whereabouts."
Jason's face broke into a smile. Trevor cleared his throat uneasily. "Thank you, sir."
"I trust you will give no cause to regret this appointment, Corporal. Jason is of considerable value to me, and I would not be pleased should he come to harm."
"You won't regret it, sir!" Jason turned to the Jilectan eagerly. "I promise you that! Trev's wonderful. He's the best friend I've ever had!"
The Jilectan smiled tolerantly, then spoke to Trevor again. "Do be seated, Corporal. We shall be converting to hyperspace in forty-five seconds."
Trevor glanced around and then seated himself in one of the delicately carved easy chairs, his eyes meeting Jason's across the space between them. A few seconds later there was a jolt as the ship converted to hyperspace.
Blashvor pressed a control on his chair arm, and a second later the Procyon servant appeared. "Yesh, M'Lord?"
"Wine, Le Frit. Bring some for the Corporal, too -- and a coke for Jason."
*****
Two hours later they again emerged from hyperspace. Jason, who was dozing on the bed in his apartment, came awake at the jolt. Trevor glanced up from his magazine reader. "Well, where d'you suppose we are now? Back at the base?"
"It hasn't been long enough." Jason looked at his chronometer.
"Hmph!" Trevor tossed the reader aside, stood up and stretched. He grinned at Jason. "Thanks for the character reference, by the way."
"Huh?"
"To His Lordship."
"Oh." Jason returned the grin. "I only told the truth."
"Maybe. But you got me out of a damned uncomfortable position doing it. I sure hated being the outcast here." He sighed. "The Jil didn't want me around, and neither did anyone else except you. It's nice to have a function again, even if it's only to guard the Jil's psychic from danger."
Jason made a face. "I feel like a possession -- a piece of useful equipment or something when he talks like that. 'My little psychic...'."
"You are a piece of equipment, Shorty; at least to him you are. That's all Terrans are to Jils. You're just a little more useful than most. Maybe equipment isn't the right word, though. The Jils look upon Terrans, and the rest of the lower species sort of the way we look upon -- oh, cattle or something. If we're productive, then they'll keep us around. If we're not, then we end up like Granger. You see?"
Jason nodded, looking unhappy. "So he really doesn't like me, then. He just treats me nice so I'll cooperate."
Trevor hesitated, knowing the boy's statement was true, but not wanting to distress his little friend by admitting it. Jason nodded slowly. "I guess you should know, Trev. You've lived around Jils for the last five years."
Trevor shrugged unhappily. "Well, I've never seen one of them care a fig about a Terran yet. Not for the Terran's sake, anyway. Of course, I guess it's not impossible. And you're the empath. If Blashvor does like you, you should know."
Jason shrugged again and produced a smile. "I guess it shouldn't bother me. He's a Jil, after all, and as long as he treats us both okay, I'd better not complain. Look at the way old Rakinxvor acted!"
"Yeah. Blashvor's a real saint compared with him, and with most Jils. I knew this one named Pomothvor once...."
"I've heard about him! Didn't Westover kill him?"
"Yep. Nobody cried a tear, either. Pomothvor hated Terrans more than most Jils do. He was the first one I ever saw kill a man just for messing up. And the poor guy really hadn't done anything all that bad. Not like Granger, or anything."
"Good grief! What had he done?"
"Brought the wrong wine, I think. The Jil had a Lady with him who he was entertaining, and this poor sap was substituting for the Jil's servant, who was sick. I was a bodyguard at the time. Man! That Jil punched him, and he didn't get up again. Broke his neck."
"Holy smoke!"
"Yeah. Pomothvor was a real trenchcrawler. Y'know, though, his actions carried their own reward. None of his wives liked him, and he only had about three. Most Jils in his station have at least a dozen. I don't think the Jils trusted their daughters with him. He had a temper like you've never seen."
"Gosh! Did he have any kids?"
"Yeah, he did, and believe it or not, three of them were sons. Most Jils don't have that many boys, you know. Pomothvor lucked out, 'cause I think he only had about ten kids in all when Westover put his lights out ... what's the matter?"
"Blashvor's calling me to the control room." Jason got up and slid his feet into the fancy silver colored boots Blashvor had given him. They looked a little strange with his blue jeans, but Trevor didn't comment.
"What's he want?"
"I don't know. You're supposed to come along, too."
"You sure?"
"Sure I am. You're my bodyguard, remember. How do I look?"
Trevor smoothed down the boy's tousled hair. "You need a trim."
"Oh, for Pete's sake. You sound like my mother."
"Well, you asked."
They went out.
Blashvor was seated in the Captain's chair in the control room. In the viewscreen there floated a small planet against the starry background of space.
The Jilectan was clad in a fine, dark blue robe, edged with gold, and there were gold rings in his ears. Except for his hair, which was swept back in its usual carefree style, he looked quite regal. Behind him stood Le Frit, two gaily clad pirates, and Fenton.
Blashvor beckoned, and Jason went toward him, looking a little nervous. Trevor waited by the door, aware that most of the men in the room were watching Jason. Jason stopped before the Jilectan's chair and went gracefully to one knee.
"Yes sir?" he said in his childish treble.
Blashvor gestured him to his feet and leaned forward to place something around his neck. It was a thick, golden chain Trevor saw, from which dangled an ornate golden insignia, sparkling with jewels.
"You are commended, Jason," the Jilectan said, "for your bravery and ingenuity during the last raid." He beckoned to Trevor, his white teeth gleaming for an instant in a smile. "Come here, Corporal Trevor."
Trevor obeyed and also knelt. The Jilectan bent forward again and placed a second chain, similar to Jason's, but less ornate, around his neck. He straightened up. "Rise, Corporal," he intoned.
Trevor did so. The Jilectan addressed him solemnly. "You also are commended, Trevor, for your courage and assistance during the raid. Your action unquestionably saved the lives of both of my psychics, as well as mine." Blashvor addressed the rest of the beings in the room. "All of you listen to me, and tell your fellows what I am about to say. My new psychic and his friend, the one-time patrolman, Richard Trevor, performed, as the gentry would say, above and beyond the call of duty during this last, unfortunate raid. Hereafter you are to treat both of them with courtesy and respect. If you do not do so, I shall hear of it, and the offender will be punished. It is true that Corporal Trevor was once a patrolman, and I am aware of your feelings toward The Autonomy's armed forces, but Trevor is no longer a member of the Patrol. If the Jilectan Autonomy caught him now, he would be publicly executed, as would many of us in this room. He is a comrade in misfortune, a member of the crew, and the personal bodyguard of my most gifted psychic. You will treat him accordingly. Is this perfectly understood?"
There were murmurs of assent from the pirates. Blashvor reached forward and placed both hands on Jason's shoulders in what Trevor recognized as the Jilectan equivalent of an embrace. Jason grasped the alien's arms in return, unable to reach the Jilectan's shoulders, and Trevor saw the little boy smile with delight.
"Thank you, sir," he said gratefully.
Blashvor released him and rose majestically to his feet. "We shall now be journeying to our next intercept point, Jethro. The charge aboard the cargo ship Lady Vanxvil is due to detonate in 3.6 hours. We should arrive at our fix point just about on time."
"Yes M'Lord." The navigator seated himself, his hands moving over his controls. Jason looked disconsolately at Trevor.
"Another raid."
He had spoken softly, but the Jilectan turned, smiling faintly. "Ah, Jason, you will find this raid very different to the last one. Opportune breakdowns are always risky. Although, I confess, I have never encountered such a trap before, I was aware of the possibility. This coming raid has been arranged in advance. We know what the ship carries, who is aboard, and will have little difficulty securing our booty."
"Yes sir. Lord Blashvor?"
"Jason?"
"The prisoners from the other ship -- what did you do with them?"
Trevor had forgotten all about them. He saw annoyance flicker over Blashvor's face, to be replaced a moment later with amused resignation. "They are unharmed, Jason," he replied patiently. "We left them on the planet you see below. It is the world of Borantia. The conditions are poor, but there is, as you probably know, both a penal colony and a Patrol depot there. The prisoners will survive. Their ship I sent back to my base in the asteroid field, along with some of my crew."
"Thanks, sir," Jason said meekly. "I just wanted to know."
A benevolent smile from the alien. "Anything else to ease your empathic sensibilities, Little Jason?"
The boy flushed. "Are the guys who were caught by the sonic bomb doing okay?"
Blashvor glanced at his other psychic. "Fenton?"
"They're back on duty, M'lord," Fenton said woodenly. "All but the one who was resuscitated by the kid. He's got a helluva headache, but he's gonna be okay."
Jason gave the other psychic a smile. "Thanks."
The Jilectan had risen from his chair and moved over behind the navigator, issuing instructions. Fenton raised an eyebrow at Jason. "Cool it, kid," he said quietly. "Don't bother tryin' t'win me over. I ain't takin' the bait."
Trevor smiled to himself Jason nodded understandingly. "I know you're mad at me. I guess I don't blame you. Are you an empath, Fenton?"
"Yeah. You wanna make somethin' of it?"
"No, of course not." Jason lowered his voice even more. "How do you keep from making a fool of yourself? I feel like an idiot. No one else seems to care at all about the victims, but I can't help myself."
"You learn to keep quiet an' ignore it," Fenton said. He looked away. "Lemme alone, kid."
Jason ignored the request. "How do you happen to be here, anyway? Were you picked up by psychic hunters, too?"
"No."
"You're Shallockian, aren't you?"
"Yeah, so what?"
"Born and raised there?" Jason seemed unaffected by the other's attitude.
Trevor felt a desire to laugh, remembering his own attitude when he had first met little Jason Sweeney. Would the boy's empathic talents work on another psychic? Interesting experiment. Fenton must be aware that Jason was trying to win him over.
"Yeah, I was," Fenton said carelessly.
"Scaifen?"
"Yeah."
"Did you run with a gang like Mark Linley did?"
The other psychic glared at him. "You wanna make somethin' of it, kid?"
"No, I'm just interested. Which gang did you run with?"
"Black Sabreclaws."
"Hey! Wasn't that --?"
"Yeah, it was Linley's gang." Fenton swore under his breath. "Will you knock it off? I don't like you, an' I don't wanna like you."
Jason ignored the statement. "How'd you get caught, though? The principal of my school snitched on me, I think. I didn't have enough sense to act dumb."
Fenton grunted, not looking at him.
"One of the other gang members?"
"Gang members don't snitch on each other. My mom did it."
Jason's jaw dropped. "Your mom?"
"Yeah."
"You're joking!"
"No I ain't." Fenton scowled darkly at the bulkhead. "Mom was a drugger. She needed money to support her habit. She knew me an' my sister were psychics. One day she ran outta money, an' got desperate. I knew she would some day. She called the Patrol an' turned us in."
Jason swallowed hard. "Your sister, too?"
"Yeah. We were twins."
"But what about your dad? Didn't he object?"
Fenton stared at him. "My dad wasn't around to object, my innocent child. I don't know who my dad was, an' neither did mom. He could'a been any one of a dozen guys. Mom specialized in 'trols." He glanced at Trevor expressionlessly. "They always got money t'pay their shot."
Jason went bright red. "What -- what happened to your sister? Was she killed?"
"Probably." Fenton's face was determinedly wooden. "The Patrol raided one o' our hideouts. Mom was with 'em, an' I saw her point us out. I ran for it, an' so did Trish. There was a big scuffle, an' lotsa stunbolts an' screamin'. Somebody knocked me on the head, an' when I came to, I was in an aircar with Blashvor an' a couple o' his men. I figured I was done for, but they told me to take, it easy, an' explained who they were. Blashvor'd happened t'be in the area on business, an' had picked up the transmissions an' had ordered his men to follow an' see if they could grab the psychics from the Patrol."
"They didn't see your sister, though?"
"Oh, yeah, they saw her, but she ducked out a side door with a bunch o' guys after her. At least, that's what they told me. Blashvor saw how frantic I was, an' tried to find her for me. Blashvor ain't a clairvoyant, though, an' neither am I. We couldn't find her. She probably got caught, poor kid. She was only fifteen."
"I'm sorry, Fenton."
The young man scowled. "His Lordship tried. There wasn't nothin' he could do." Fenton hesitated, then resumed, his voice now thoughtful. "Lord Blashvor's always been real good t'me -- better'n anyone else ever was. Nobody better say anythin' against him t'me, ever."
Jason nodded. "What happened after that?"
"Aw, they took me back to the ship, an' Blashvor checked me out an' found I wasn't as great a psychic as he'd hoped. Trish was better'n me, I think. She was a telekinetic. Blashvor uses me to find other psychics, an' that's about it."
"You're a pretty good precog, too," Jason said.
"Yeah. Big deal." Fenton looked away. "Wish I was as good as you are."
"Look, Fenton," Jason said suddenly, "did you ever really look for Trish after that?"
"Huh? 0f course not? How could we?"
"I guess you couldn't. But you don't know that she got caught, do you? I mean, maybe she got away. Maybe she's still on Shallock, hiding."
"Kid!" Fenton was staring at him now. "It's been three years. She must be dead."
"Maybe not."
"And even if she isn't, how the devil could we find her now?"
"Well..." Jason hesitated. "I'm a clairvoyant. Maybe I could find her. At least we'd know for sure. Do you have anything that belonged to her, maybe?"
Fenton swallowed hard. "Yeah, I do."
"Could I see it?"
Fenton unhooked a small chain from around his neck. From the chain dangled a cheap plastic ring, set with a sparkling glass stone. "She gave me this the day before we were raided. Her boyfriend had given it to her, an' the jewel came out. She asked me to fix it for her. I...I never had the chance to give it back to her."
Jason took the chain and held the ring in his palm. Almost absently he reached for Trevor. The Corporal extended his hand, feeling again the odd weakness flow through him. Jason concentrated, eyes closed. Trevor became suddenly aware of the deep silence in the room, and looking around, realized that all the crewmembers, as well as Blashvor, himself, were watching them.
Jason didn't notice. He spoke suddenly, his voice sounding remote. "I think I see her. She's a pretty girl, kind of short and slim, with dark straight hair and a birthmark shaped like a heart on her left cheek."
Fenton drew in his breath sharply. "That's right! Can you...." His voice trailed off as Trevor glanced at him sharply, and motioned for silence.
Jason rolled the ring around in his hand, then clasped it tightly. The silence in the room stretched out. The weakness grew more pronounced.
Then the boy spoke, his voice still remote. "Movement. That's all I get, but I think ... I'm almost sure ..." His voice trailed off and his eyes opened. He smiled. "I'm sure she's alive, Fenton."
Fenton swallowed hard. "You're not just saying that to raise m'hopes, are you, kid?"
"My shields are down," Jason said. "Look for yourself. She's alive."
Fenton gulped. "Where is she?"
"I don't know. I think the most likely place to look would be Shallock."
"Yeah..." The young man took a deep breath and turned to Blashvor, "M'lord --"
"After this raid, Fenton, we shall go to Shallock. Jason shall attempt to trace your sister for you."
Fenton swallowed. "Thank you, M'Lord," he said in a choked voice, and fled the control room. The door slid shut behind him.
**********
tbc
