The Reluctant Pirate: 3/?
by Linda Garrick and Nancy Smith
Chapter 3
Jason Sweeney awoke suddenly. It was getting light, he realized in panic, the faint radiance creeping through the flap of the tent. Trevor hadn't awakened him. Had he had a relapse and died while Jason's back was turned?
Very frightened, he scrambled from the tent. Trevor was there, all right, but he wasn't dead. He was curled up beside the ashes of the fire, swaddled like a cocoon in one of the emergency blankets. There was faint color in his face once again, and he was breathing quietly. The disease had passed safely, but Jason knew well that Trevor should take it easy for the next few days. Squapp was nothing to fool around with, and when the first settlers had come to Bellian a good number had died from it until the doctors had learned how to treat it. Relapses were common, too. If Richard Trevor hadn't been a very strong young man, Jason would probably now be digging a grave for him. The thought sent a chill over him. How could he have borne it if Trevor had died? Again the realization hit him, as it had many times while the Corporal lay raving with fever, that Trevor had, somehow, become very important to him, like a best friend or a brother. And yet, only a few days ago, he had been a cold, frightening, violent man, and Jason had truly hated him. How had things changed so quickly?
Quietly he seated himself beside the Corporal and began slowly to build up the fire, glancing frequently at Trevor's face. Corporal Richard Trevor was a ruggedly handsome man, with thick, black hair and a lean, muscular face. His mouth was large, but even in sleep it was drawn into a firm, unyielding line. He had a straight, slender nose, rather delicate in appearance, and short, thick eyelashes. His forehead was high and smooth, except for the thin line of scar where the brand had been removed. Jason shuddered at the memory of Trevor's description. He had known, of course, that slavery was legal on Jilectan worlds, but had never thought much about it beyond his studies of those worlds and their people. But the living result of the knowledge was staggering. And Trevor was one of the lucky ones! Thousands, perhaps millions more lived under those conditions every day, with no hope of escape.
The fire blazed up, crackling noisily. Trevor's eyes opened, focusing on Jason. He looked puzzled for a moment, then angry. "Dammit!"
"It's okay, sir," Jason hastened to reassure him. "You were tired out. I've been watching."
"Okay, hell! You fall asleep on guard duty in the Patrol, and you get put before a firing squad!"
"This isn't the Patrol, sir -- I mean, Trev, and I'm not your C.O." Jason smiled at him. "I was flat on my back for a week after I had the squapp."
Trevor scowled at him, but his emotional emanations were benign enough. "Shut up, Shorty. Quit being so nice to me. You’re going to make me soft."
"No way, sir. You might be a lot of things, but you'll never be soft."
Trevor threw a punch at him, catching him on the shoulder and knocking him backwards "Trev, dammit!"
"Yessir, Corporal Trevor, sir!" Jason giggled, dodging another punch, and rolled to his feet, falling into a traditional Karate pose. "Watch your step, sir! I know Judo!"
"And six other Japanese words, huh?" Trevor grinned at him. "What's for breakfast?"
"It'll have to be rations, I'm afraid. We ate up all the stew last night; unless you'd like to try roast megawolf."
Trevor glanced across at the two, enormous, frozen carcasses. "What're they like?"
"Tough. The meat's stringy and doesn't taste very good. The fur goes for a good price, though, and so does butterbear fur. Butterbear's almost the same color as a jackboar pelt, although not as soft and thick."
"Yeah. The Jils wear Jackboar pelts a lot, kid. I've seen 'em. Awfully expensive, too. Well, I guess it's rations, then. What've we got left?"
Jason produced a can. "Corned beef hash?"
"Fine."
They ate, then tidied up, dismantling the tent and storing the blankets back in Trevor's pouches within their emergency kits. Jason shouldered his own pack and glanced at his companion. "I'll carry yours, too, Trev. You should take it easy or you could have a relapse."
"Don't be stupid, Shorty! You can't carry both of them!"
"I'm not stupid. I just want to keep you alive."
"Quit worrying about me, will you? I'm tough. Take, more than a few germs to kill me." His face softened. "I haven't shown up very well on this trip, have I?"
"Now you know that's not it, sir. I just ..."
Trevor ruffled his hair. "The weight's nothing, Squirt. I'll be fine. Let's go.”
Jason gave in. "Okay, Trev, you're the boss, but please, if you start to feel tired, rest. I can't carry you."
"I promise, Shorty."
They started out briskly through the barren forest. An hour passed, and snow began to drift from the leaden sky. Another hour, and the snow had thickened to a shower, and the flakes had become larger and wetter, clinging to their faces and clothing. Trevor trudged tirelessly on, and Jason stumbled after him. The snow soaked his tennis shoes, and the wind slapped his face. Above him the drooping evergreen trees howled dismally.
He nearly bumped into Trevor, and realized the Corporal had stopped and was looking back at him. "You doing okay, Squirt?"
"Sure. You?"
"Okay. This is nasty stuff. Yell if you need a rest."
"I will. You, too." Jason tried not to sound breathless. They went on through the howling gale.
After another hour Jason was staggering. He sensed fatigue in Trevor as well, but he never slowed his pace. Jason stumbled at last, going heavily to one knee in the slushy snow. Trevor helped him to his feet and clamped an arm around him. "Keep going a few more minutes, kid. I'm going to find us a place to rest."
Jason didn't try to answer. Amazed at his companion's endurance, he was half carried up a short rise, then down a slope. Trevor paused, looked around and then ducked beneath the shelter of a gigantic fallen tree, pulling Jason with him. The trunk was suspended off the ground by other trees, and the wind was cut by the surrounding underbrush and the huge mat of tree roots. Jason huddled back, shivering and pulling his emergency blanket close about him.
Trevor didn't speak. He was collecting wood and piling it together. Deliberately he adjusted his blaster and fired. There was a faint hiss. The wood smoked furiously for a moment and then burst into flames.
Jason leaned over, warming his hands, Trevor relaxed back against the tree roots, closing his eyes.
"Trev," Jason said. "You okay?"
"Sure, Shorty."
"You shouldn't be doing all this, you know. You might get sick again."
Trevor opened his eyes. "Shorty, if I wasn't tough, I wouldn't have, survived this long. You said it yourself. So quit worrying,"
Jason smiled at him. "You're right. Sorry."
"Forget it," Trevor closed his eyes again. "I had Corallan Purple Fever when I was five or so, kid. They had me up working again before I could swallow. You know, that damned fever swells your throat almost shut. Lots of kids died of it. We had a real epidemic through the orphanage. None of us had had our shots for it, of course. Costs too much."
"Oh," Jason said. "I've heard of it. I guess it's pretty bad, huh?"
"Yeah, you could say that. About two out of every three who got it died. Really cleaned out the orphanage that year. Of course, we were filled up again by next year. Doesn't take long on Corala. You getting warmer?”
"Yes." Jason tried not to shiver "Trev, that's terrible!"
"Yeah, I guess so. Look; I'm going to rest awhile, okay? Think you can stay awake?"
"Sure. You just sleep, Trev. I'll keep the fire going,"
"Yell if you get nervous."
"I will."
Trevor slept for an hour then awoke, apparently refreshed. They went on, and at last the snow thinned and became less slushy. The air grew colder and the wind continued to blow, whipping the emergency blanket savagely about him. Trevor helped, supporting him when he stumbled, and again Jason wondered at his companion's change in attitude. What would happen to Trevor, he wondered uneasily, if they did manage to contact the Underground? Trevor had been assisting in the abduction of psychics. Even Jason, ignorant as he was of the Underground's policies, knew how the outlaws reacted to psychic hunters. Such people were killed in a way to discourage others from such actions. There were no exceptions; at least he'd never heard of any. But that applied to hunters who turned psychics in for the reward money. Trevor hadn't been doing that. He'd simply been obeying the Jil's orders. Would the Undergrounders hold that against him? After all, he had saved Jason's Life, even though it had been for his own purposes at the time. Strike Commander Mark Linley had been a patrolman who had apparently found himself in a similar position and had done the same thing as Trev, and they hadn't hurt him. Maybe it would be all right.
A sound reached him, and he froze, grasping Trevor by the wrist. "Someone's coming, sir!"
The Corporal apparently had heard nothing. He stiffened, head turning expectantly, his blaster gripped in one hand. There was a long moment of tense silence.
Then a figure emerged from the snowflakes: a man, carrying a laser rifle in one hand, and over one shoulder was the pelt of a butterbear. The hunter approached, head bent forward into the driving snow, woolen cap pulled low over his eyes. Then some inner sense, warned him, and his head snapped up. His eyes focused instantly on the two fugitives and the blaster in Trevor's hand. He froze.
The corporal stepped slowly forward, blaster never wavering. The hunter’s rifle dropped to the snow, and he slowly raised his hands over his head. Jason stepped quickly up beside Trevor "Sir..."
"Get back, Shorty."
The blaster was set on kill, and the Corporal had not adjusted it to stun. His eyes were cold and hard: the eyes of the Corporal Trevor Jason had known aboard the psychic hunter ship. Inexorable purpose in his mind seemed to leap out at Jason.
"No, sir!" Jason clutched his friend's sleeve. "Please...you mustn't!"
Trevor’s eyes never wavered. "Get back, kid. It's got to be done."
"No!" Jason clutched his arm tighter. "Please! Please, don't!"
Trevor twisted his arm free and shoved Jason aside with one hand. "Don't be a fool, Shrimp!" he snapped. "He's seen us! He knows what we are. Look at his face."
Jason got to his feet again, half stumbling in the clinging snow. "Please, sir!"
Determination wavered. "Stop it, Shrimp!" His tone was harsh. "This is no time to go soft on me. This guy’s a threat, and we've got to get rid of him."
"Please, Trev! Please don't kill him!"
The hunter had remained silent throughout the exchange, his eyes flicking from Trevor to Jason. He was scared, and, as the Corporal had already observed, there was full comprehension in his face. He might not know who they were, but he did know he was facing a Patrol deserter and a Terran psychic. Jason saw him swallow convulsively.
Trevor was hesitating, irresolute now. "Dammitall, kid! Just turn your back and shut your ears! It'll be over in a second."
"I can't!" Jason was almost crying now. "I can feel everything he's feeling, don't you understand? Oh, sir, please, please don't! It'll be murder! If we're going to join the Underground, we can't just go around killing everybody who gets in our way. They wouldn't like, it!"
Trevor swore savagely between his teeth, flicked the blaster to stun and fired. There was a soft hum and the hunter sank silently to the snow.
The Corporal rammed the blaster back into his holster and turned furiously on Jason. "Jason Sweeney, you are an emotional little idiot! What do you think this guy's going to do if we turn him loose? Keep quiet? Hell no! He's going to run as fast as he can to the nearest police station and blab all he knows. The police will contact the Patrol, and before we know it we'll have ' 'trols all over, the place—and maybe a Jil or two into the bargain, and you, an unshielded psychic, broadcasting our location in all directions. I've seen it happen, don't you know? People don't dare keep quiet. They know what'll happen to them if the Jils find out they knew something and didn't report it. This guy'll tell to save his own skin. You and I will end up in execution chairs side by side! Cozy, eh? Screaming out our, brains together before the whole sector. Now think about it! Don't cry, dammit! Think! Is this guy worth it?"
Jason swallowed a sob. "Please, sir, there's got to be some other way. We can't just kill him. Who knows? He might be a sympathizer. He was too scared for me to pick up much, but I don't think he wanted to hurt us. There's a lot of sympathizers on Bellian, you know. It's thick with anti-Jil sentiment."
“And how are we going to find out, Shrimp? Ask him? You think he's going to tell us the truth?" The Corporal's tone was sarcastic. "You know damn well he won't. He'll say whatever he thinks will save his skin, besides, it doesn't make any difference, like I said before. People don't dare keep quiet. He's got to tell, and he knows it. If the Jils ever track our movements and find out we contacted him, he's in for it." Trevor shook his head. "Shorty, it won't wash."
"Oh, no! Please, Trev! There's got to be some other way."
"Dammit to hell! I didn't realize empaths could be this hard headed. Look, if we do it now, before he wakes up, he'll never know what hit him. You won't feel a thing, because he won't. Just turn your back and put your fingers in your ears. Go on! Do as I say!"
"No!" Jason stepped between Trevor and the unconscious man. "I won't let you!"
Trevor's mouth, hardened. "And how are you going to stop me, twerp?"
Wrong approach, Jason realized desperately. Trembling, he stepped forward, blinking back the infuriating tears. "Please, sir! It's just not good politics to kill him. Don't you see? The Underground never kills without good cause."
"This is good cause, dammit!"
"No. Listen to me." Angrily Jason blinked back the tears. "Listen, sir, this guy must have a house somewhere nearby. When he comes to, we'll make him take us there. Like, you said, he'll do anything to save his skin. Then we can take his aircar, or whatever he's got for transportation, disable his videophone, and leave. He can't do much in this storm, you know. It'd take him the rest of the day to walk to town."
Trevor was silent, eyes on Jason's face.
"Then we can find out if the Underground’s there, or the Patrol, and what’s going on. It'll be a lot quicker, and we'll be out of the area, so even if the guy did manage to report it, we'll be out of tracing range. Oh, please, sir, I don't want you to kill him!" Determinedly Jason swallowed another sob. "He was so scared of you!"
Trevor hesitated.
"Please, sir!"
The hunter groaned.
"Sir?"
Trevor sighed. "I still think you're an emotional little idiot, Shorty. Okay, we'll give it a try. But I make one stipulation."
"One, what?"
"One rule. I do the talking. You're too soft. I can scare him into cooperating. Got it? You just keep quiet."
Jason nodded, feeling relief wash over him. "Thanks, sir!"
"Don't thank me yet. We still might end up in the execution chair because of this." He bent, caught the hunter by the back of the coat and brought him to a sitting position. The man groaned and gagged.
"Trev, please don't hurt him."
"Shut up, Shorty! Remember what I said!"
"Yes sir." Jason shut up, wincing at the emanations of misery from the hunter's mind. He recalled vividly his own awakening from the stunbeam.
Trevor jerked the man's hands behind him and fastened them with restrainers. He picked up the laser rifle from the snow and handed it to Jason. "You know how to use one of these?"
"I've shot at beer cans with them. Grandpa taught me how."
"Good. Hold on to it." Trevor propped the man with his back to the projecting roots of the fallen tree. The retching spasms had ceased, and the hunter was moaning, head to one side, his eyes closed against the headache. Jason glanced at Trevor. "Can I help him, sir?" he asked softly.
Trevor appeared resigned. "Okay, but not a word to him. Understand?"
"Yes sir." Jason knelt beside the hunter and wiped his face with a damp handkerchief. The man’s eyes opened and focused on Jason. Comprehension returned to his features. His gaze went past Jason to Trevor.
The Corporal spoke, his voice remote. "All right Mister, you heard the kid, and I guess maybe he's right. The Underground wouldn't like it if we killed you for no reason, but personally, I think we still ought to get rid of you. You're a danger to us, so you give me one excuse -- just one -— and I’ll grab it. The kid won't be able to save you next time." He reached down, caught Jason by the arm and brought him roughly to his feet. Tell him, boy."
"He means it, Mister," Jason said, hearing the tremor in his voice. "He'll kill you. He's a ‘ 'trol, and he's killed plenty before you. It won't bother him a bit."
The hunter swallowed hard. "I’ll give you no trouble, sir."
Trevor gestured with the blaster. "Get up."
The hunter struggled to his feet.
"You got a place near here?"
The prisoner nodded.
"How far?"
"About three or four kilometers."
"Good. You're going to take us there. Start walking."
Jason sensed hesitation in the man. He placed a hand on Trevor's arm. "Sir?"
"Yeah?"
"He's not telling us something."
Trevor flicked the setting on the blaster. "You got something to say, Mister?"
The hunter shrank back. "No, sir. It's just that...Oh, sir, my wife and little boy are in that house."
Silence. The hunter gulped. "Please, sir, don't hurt them!"
Jason glanced miserably at Trevor. The Corporal's expression hadn't changed. "Okay, I won't hurt your wife and kid if you cooperate. Take us there. You try anything, and you're dead. My friend's a psychic, in case you haven't figured it out yet, and I'm a Patrol deserter. We're both scheduled for the execution chair if we're caught, so we've got nothing to lose. Got me?"
"Yes sir."
"Now lead on. Let me know when we're getting near your house."
"Yes sir." The man began to walk. Trevor followed close, blaster leveled at his shoulder blades. Jason trailed in the rear, now looking upon Trevor with new eyes. He had known the Corporal was a hard, bitter, volatile man, but when his attitude toward Jason had changed, Jason had innocently assumed that the change was complete, that Trevor had become a kinder, more gentle person altogether. Vividly now, he realized that this was not so. Trevor had certainly changed toward Jason, but not toward the rest of humanity. Inside he was still the same man as before. Still, it was a minor victory that Jason had succeeded in talking him out of killing the hunter.
They had walked for perhaps thirty minutes when their prisoner stopped, pointing. "My house is straight ahead, sir -— through those trees."
"Okay." Trevor jerked his head at Jason. "Have a look, kid."
Jason peered through the thick evergreens. The house was small, and nestled neatly in a clearing. A barren vine swathed the front porch, and a small child, wearing a red snowsuit, was playing with a puppy in the front yard. The pup’s head was turned in their direction, its ears cocked.
"What do you see, Shorty?"
Jason told him.
"Great," Trevor muttered. "Look, pal, you’re going to have to help out here. We don't want the lady calling the cops before we can make the situation clear to her. Can I trust you?" He grinned suddenly. "Sure I can. You may be sentimental, but you're not stupid."
Jason returned the smile. "I thought you were mad at me."
"I was some, but dammit, it’s not your fault you're an empath. I'm not used to empaths, Shorty. The Jils are mean suckers, you know? I'm just not used to kindhearted psychics."
Jason felt pleased. "That's okay, sir." You were a 'trol for five years. It'll take you awhile to get out of the mould."
"Yeah, I guess that's one way to put it. But I was mean before I became a 'trol, kid."
"You didn't know anything else. No one had ever been nice to you."
Trevor's grin widened. "Cool it, empath. Now, listen. I want you to head over to the house. Bang on the door and get the lady to take you in. Get her off her guard, and keep her busy. I don't want her to see me coming toward the house, or she might do something stupid, like try to call the cops. Understand?"
"Sure." Jason grimaced. "She's not going to like me after she realizes I've fooled her."
"It doesn't matter. Can you do it?"
"Yes."
"Get going, then. I'll give you two or three minutes to get her occupied. Make it good, pal. Women may not be very smart, but I swear they've got instincts like I've never seen in men. You'll have to look really convincing ... Uh -- just a minute." Trevor surveyed him carefully, then reached out, mussing his hair wildly and removing the emergency blanket. "There, that should help. Go ahead, pal. I'll be there in just a few minutes." He glanced at the hunter. "Don't try anything dumb, Mister. I'm watching you."
"I won't," the hunter said.
"Go on, Shorty,"
Jason started through the trees, and staggered across the clearing toward the house, The puppy ran toward him, yapping, and the little boy stared, wide eyed, "Momma!"
A woman appeared at the door. "What, Jesse? Oh my Lord!"
She ran down the porch steps and across the lawn toward him. "What are you doing here, little boy? What happened to you? Dear heaven! Look at your face! Who beat you?"
Jason clutched her and felt her warm arms encircle him. "Never mind. Don't try to talk. Come on into the house and get warm." She helped him up the steps and through the door. The little boy and the puppy followed, too. Jason was led to a small, tidy kitchen. The air was wonderfully warm, and something was bubbling on the large, old fashioned stove. The place smelled deliciously of fresh bread.
The woman seated him on a kitchen chair and he leaned forward, sinking his head into his hands, trying to look pitiful and exhausted. He must have succeeded, for the woman was beside him again at once, "Here, let me have your sweater.” She pulled the damp garment over his head, and an instant later a warm, crocheted afghan was around his shoulders. "Jesse, go run him a bath, quick. Here, child, can you eat something?" She got a bowl from the cupboard and ladled something from the pot on the stove. Jason felt a wave of guilt at her kindness. It wasn't right, what he was doing, but Trevor's life depended on it. He couldn't let his friend down. Somehow he must keep her occupied. Trev would be here any moment.
"I feel sick," he whispered. "I'm going to throw up."
She grabbed his shoulders and steered him through the living room. "The bathroom's through here!"
Jason let his legs fold, and the woman caught him, lifting him easily to the sofa.
The puppy was back, putting both paws up beside him, nosing him in the face. The woman swatted it, sending it scampering away, yelping.
The door burst open and Trevor charged in, pushing the hunter before him.
"Okay, lady, freeze right there!"
The woman straightened up with a scream. Jason sat up and scrambled to his feet.
"Over here, Shorty!" Trevor snapped.
Jason ran to his friend and took the laser rifle from his other hand. Trevor released the man, who went over to his wife, placing an arm around her. "Just do as he says, dear. He won't hurt you. Jesse?"
"Here, Daddy." The little boy had emerged from the bathroom, eyes wide. "He looks like a 'trol, Momma!"
"Keep your kid quiet, lady." Trevor gestured again with the blaster. "Okay, both of you, sit down on the sofa. Get the kid between you."
"Come here, Jesse," the man said. He took the little boy’s hand and sat down as instructed, drawing Jesse down beside him.
"You have a phone?" Trevor asked.
The man nodded toward the corner. "Over there."
Trevor went over to it, flicked his blaster to needle beam and disabled the device. "Check around, Shorty. Make sure there aren't any others, or any personal communicators."
Jason went into the adjoining rooms, examining them carefully. He returned to the Living room a few minutes later. "That's it, sir. Nothing else."
Trevor glanced at the door to the kitchen. "Something in there smells awfully good. Go get us something to eat while I cover, 'em."
Jason hesitated. "But sir, we..." He stopped, then shrugged and went into the kitchen, returning a moment later with mugs of the fragrant stew and slabs of fresh bread. "Here, sir. I'll watch 'em while you eat."
Trevor holstered his blaster and began to wolf down the food, eyes still on the prisoners. "Any other houses near here?" he asked.
Willie looked uncomfortable, glancing at Jason. "Well, there's the Jenkins ..."
"Willie!" It was the woman. "Don't! Isn't it bad enough what's happened to us?"
"I’ll handle this, Doris," Willie said. "This man isn't looking for trouble. He just wants to know how far we'll have to go to get help." He spoke to Trevor again. "The Jenkins live about twenty kilometers east of here. Jenkins is an old man, and he lives with his daughter and her little girl. They're good people." He paused again. "Look, patrolman, I'm not against what you're doing. I admire any man who would desert his position in the 'trol to rescue a Terran child, psychic or not. Of course, you probably brought him along to ensure your admission to the Underground, but what you've done is still admirable. I'm not about to rush to the authorities to turn you in."
Silence. Trevor drew his blaster and fingered the settings. He glanced sideways at Jason. "Eat your food, kid. I'll cover."
Jason began to wolf down the stew. "Mm, this is great, ma'am!"
The woman didn't answer. The little boy began to sniffle. "I wanna get up, momma!"
"Sit still, Jesse."
Jesse squirmed. "I wanna get up," he whimpered.
Jason finished his food. Trevor glanced at him. "Done? Okay." He gestured with the blaster. Lady, you and the kid get down on your faces."
Slowly the two obeyed. Trevor spoke to the man. "Where's your aircar?"
"Out back. Are you going to take it?"
"Yeah," Trevor said.
The woman voiced a wordless sound of protest. Willie spoke sharply to her. "Be quiet, Doris."
"The keys?” Trevor demanded.
"They’re hanging on the hook in the kitchen."
"Go get 'em, Shorty."
Jason obeyed, returning a moment later, keys in hand. Trevor gestured. "Okay, you get down too, Mister."
Jessie lifted his head and stuck his tongue out at Trevor. "Shove it, 'trol!" he piped. "I'm Alan Westover!" He pointed a finger at the Corporal. "Bang! You're dead, Jil flunkie!"
"Jesse!" Willie shoved the little boy back down hard, looking fearfully at Trevor. "Sorry, sir. Four's a bad age."
Trevor didn't speak. Willie lay down, back and shoulders tense. Jason also looked quickly at Trevor. Trevor met his eyes, and his grim face relaxed into a smile. He winked and adjusted the blaster. "Okay, I'm going to stun you. Don't move." Methodically he fired three times.
"Darn it," Jason said unhappily. "A little boy, Trev. I feel terrible."
"He'll be okay, kid. Stunbolts are easier on kids than on adults, believe me. They don't wake up as quick, and when they do, it's just a little headache usually. They almost never throw up."
"I did," Jason said.
"I mean little kids, kid. When you get past eight or nine, it's the same as with an adult. Look, we've got to get going. Go see if you can find me something to wear and maybe a coat far yourself."
"Okay." Jason went through a doorway into a bedroom and rummaged through a closet, selecting a few Item that looked large, and a coat that must belong to the woman for himself. He went back into the living room. "Here. See if these fit."
Trevor struggled into the slacks, cursing under his breath. The jeans were skin tight, and the ex-Corporal had to pull in his stomach as far as he could in order to fasten them. The sweater was a better fit, though still too small for him, the sleeves coming halfway to his elbows. Jason surveyed the rolling muscles in his friend's shoulders with awe. He'd realized, of course, that Trevor was a big man, but not how big. The Corporal cussed, trying to fit his feet into the hunter's boots. "These'll never do. I'm going to have to wear my own."
“No one should notice, Trev. Here's a long coat. It should hide how small the sweater is. Pull the pant legs down over the boots to hide those classy red clips. There. You look fine."
"Feels like hell, though." Trevor tried to adjust the waist of the pants. "Wasn't there anything bigger than these?”
Jason hesitated. "I don't think so. I’ll go look, though."
"I'll look. You rest and keep an eye on the folks here. They should be coming out of it in a minute, or so." He handed Jason the blaster. "It's set on stun. If one of them starts to move, just press the trigger."
“Okay, sir.”
Trevor went back into the bedroom, and Jason heard him rifling through the closet again. A few minutes later he reappeared. "Not a blasted thing! Old Willie's a real shrimp."
"A shrimp," Jason said solemnly, "is a small Terran sea animal, Corporal Trevor." He laughed and dodged, as Trevor threw a punch at him. “Boy I sure hope I look like you when I grow up!” He surveyed the Corporal enviously.
“Cut it out, Shorty. Quit trying to butter me up.” Trevor scowled, but Jason could sense his pleasure.
"Sorry, here’s your blaster back, sir. Nobody started to wake up."
Trevor took the weapon, and as he did so the woman groaned softly. Methodically the Corporal fired three stunbolts at the prisoners. "Okay. Come on."
They went through the kitchen and out the back way. The aircar was concealed in a small, unlocked garage behind the house. Trevor got behind the controls and Jason climbed into the passenger seat. A moment later they were rising upward into the cloudy sky of Bellian. Snowflakes splattered moistly against the windshield. Trevor pressed buttons on the comp. "Well, Shorty, it's not far now. Hang on. We should be there in about an hour."
**********
tbc
