The Reluctant Pirate: 10/?
by Linda Garrick and Nancy Smith
Chapter 12
Trevor lay awake, staring up at the dark ceiling overhead. Something was bothering him. Across the cabin, Jason was sound asleep, curled into a ball beneath the downy bed clothing.
All was still, except for the soft purr of the engines. They were in hyperspace still, and had been for almost twelve hours, he calculated.
Again his mind turned back to Jason removing the security bars from his own and Trevor's wrists. The boy hadn't realized the significance of the action at the time, but Trevor, and everyone else present had. Security bars could not be removed by telekinesis: not even by trained Undergrounders. There was, of course, as he had told Jason, the rumor that Westover had removed a pair of similarly fitted Patrol restrainers once, but then, there were always rumors about Westover.
But Jason, untrained as he was, had done it with apparent ease. Trevor's memory returned to those moments on the deck: the looming form of the Jilectan, and Jason’s small hands on his wrists. He had noticed something at the time, but had disregarded it due to the proximity of the Jil and the appalling circumstances. There had been a sensation, a feeling of weakness, of strength draining out of him…
That business with the alarm and the door had brought it back to him. Jason had been thinking of disabling the alarm, and had called Trevor over. And again, Trevor had felt the sensation, although less pronounced than when Jason had removed the security bars. Why had Jason wanted him near, and why had he instinctively touched the boy just as he performed his psychic feat? And what did the feeling mean? He wasn't really weakened by it. Physically he'd felt fine after the bars were removed -- just scared silly by the presence of the Jil. Maybe it was all imagination after all.
After awhile he slept.
A jolt awoke him, he sat up, momentarily confused. Beside him he heard Jason cry out in fear. The link quivered on the edge of awareness and then closed. He saw Lord Rakinxvor’s face clearly before his eyes.
"Hey!" Trevor slid quickly out of his bed and crossed the cabin in six strides to grip Jason by the shoulder. "Take it easy, kiddo!"
Jason's eyes opened, focusing on him in the dimness. The link began to fade.
"Oh, hi Trev."
"Hi, Shorty."
"I was dreaming again, I guess. Did I link up with you?"
"Yeah. It's okay. I was awake anyway. We just came out of hyperspace."
"We did?" Jason listened. "Where do you suppose we are?"
"Could be anyplace." Trevor glanced at the luminous dial on his chronometer.
"We've been asleep about six hours."
Silence. The link had vanished. Jason drew a long breath. "What now?"
"Who knows? Better get some more sleep. No telling when we’ll be summoned."
"Yeah." Jason lay still a moment, watching him. "Trev, do you dream?"
"Sure. Doesn't everyone?"
"I mean about your past -- the orphanage, and Klafin?"
"Yeah. A lot."
"How about before that -- before you were found in the trash can?"
"I don't remember that. I was too young."
"But do you ever dream about it, or think you do?"
Trevor looked away. "Yeah, sometimes, but I think it's just from imagining how it might have happened. I don't really remember anything."
"What if --" Jason paused. "Please tell me if I get too personal, Trev. What are those dreams like? Are they always the same?
"A lot of them are, but there's variations, too. What's this leading up to?"
"Well --"
"Come on. Out with it. I can take it."
"I know you can. You're tough. Well, I guess what I'm trying to say is this. We might be able to find out how -- how you ended up where you were -- who stuck you in that trash can."
Trevor sat up, turning fiercely toward him. "How?"
He sensed, rather than saw Jason's withdrawal.
"Never mind, Trev. Forget I brought it up."
"How, Shorty?" Trevor modulated his voice.
"Well --" The boy sounded very hesitant. "We're linked, and linked good. We must be, because a lot of the time I know what you're thinking without even realizing what I'm doing. Your mind just seems a part of mine. Does that make sense?
"Yeah, I guess so. When Westover does something, he does it well, they say."
"And I've never done that with anyone else. Your mind just sort of jumps out at me, you know?"
"I'm an easy read," Trevor said stonily. "The Jils never had any trouble."
"I noticed that," Jason said slowly. "I think that's why Blashvor read your mind instead of mine when he first brought us in."
"I'm sure it was."
"But Trev, since we are so closely linked, suppose I did a mind probe on you -- a deep one, I mean. Maybe I could look into your past and find out things that you don't remember, yourself, because you were too young."
"Now just a minute. If I can't remember something, how can you possibly find it in my mind?"
"Maybe, I can't. I don't know. But my mom told me psychologists say that your brain records everything that's happened to you from, oh, way back, they aren't sure how far. Some say that memories even extend back before birth, and that the right stimulus will bring the memory out."
Trevor hadn't known that. "You’re kidding!"
"No, I'm not. They've done tests. People remember things that happened to them when they were less than a year old. I read a book about it. That's why my mom and I were talking about it, and that's what the book said. Oh, the memories were spotty, and seen from a baby's point of view, as expected, but they're definitely there. And yours should be, too. You were what? Two or three at the time?"
"I don't know. About that."
"So, if you want to know, I could look."
"Pal, there's going to be millions of memories for you to sift through!"
"I know. But it seems to me that whatever happened that put you in that orphanage should stand out ahead of the others. Maybe it won't be that hard. Maybe it will. Do you want me to try?"
Trevor was silent, trying to consider the offer emotionlessly.
"I think I'd want to know if it was me," Jason said slowly. "But, of course, it's not. Maybe it would hurt too much,"
Trevor grunted, still thinking, Jason Sweeney, little middle class kid from Bellian -- what could he know of Trevor's life? He knew nothing of the pain of being unwanted, unloved, and used ruthlessly for other people's profit.
"Maybe not," Jason said, obviously reading his mind again. "But I think I can understand. You know, you talk in your sleep sometimes, Trev."
"Yeah, I know. The other guys in the barracks used to say I kept them awake at night."
"You woke me up a couple of hours ago," Jason said quietly. "You were shouting."
"I was?"
"Yes. You said --" He hesitated, then resumed. "You were calling for someone."
Trevor swallowed. "Who?"
Jason's hand closed firmly around his wrist, gripping tightly. "Your mother, I think."
Trevor swallowed again.
"You called for her when you were delirious, back on Bellian, too," said Jason. "And for someone else, named Sally. Does that mean anything to you? Do you know someone named Sally?"
Trevor shook his head. "Maybe a girl in a bar somewhere. I don't know. What did I say tonight in my sleep?"
"You've said it before." Jason let go of his wrist and turned in the bed to took at him, propping himself up on one elbow. "You shouted ‘Mama' at least three times, loud. Then you started sort of crying, and said 'Sally'. You said it over and over again, very clearly."
"You should have woke me up, kid."
"I started to, but then you got quiet again." Jason paused, and Trevor could feel the little boy's eyes watching him in the darkness. "It isn't the first time either, but when you were delirious it really got bad."
"Sally," Trevor muttered, striving to remember. "Kid, there's nothing --"
Jason lay down again. Trevor stared upward, thinking. Did he really want to know?
At last he cleared his throat. "Do you really think you can do it?"
"I don't know. I'll try if you want me to."
"It's probably a real ugly story, kid. Come to think of it, I don't see how it could possibly be a pretty one."
"But it might not be as bad as you've imagined. I know I'm just a kid, sir, but I’ve always been a pretty good judge of character. That's my degenerate talents, I suppose. And I don't think that your life started out bad. I think there was someone in it who loved you a lot. Otherwise you wouldn't be as nice as you are."
"I'm not nice, Shorty. Careful how you talk. That's slander."
Jason didn't smile. "You are nice; at least to me you are. Somebody who's never been loved can't give it. They don't know what it is."
Again Trevor hadn't known. He growled softly. "Shut up, Shorty."
"Yessir," Jason said.
Another long pause. Trevor mulled it over. Did he really want to know? Of course he did. And Jason knew it. He could feel the boy waiting for him to give permission.
“All right,” he said at last. "Go ahead and try. I know you won't let me rest until I do. But I warn you, you start delving into my past, and you're going to see some pretty ugly stuff. Might disillusion you about me."
"I doubt that. Anyway, the Patrol's all behind you now, and when you were a slave you weren't responsible for what you had to do. Besides, you've changed a lot in the last week."
"Couldn't help myself. I had a moralistic little empath linked to me. I deny all responsibility."
Jason giggled and then became sober. He reached over and flicked the bedside light on low.
Trevor sat down on the edge of the bed. "What do I do?"
"Nothing. Lie down, close your eyes and let your mind go blank."
Trevor obeyed. Jason sat up and a small, calloused hand touched his forehead and pressed.
All was very still. Trevor tried to let his mind go blank, and discovered his heart was beating rather hard. Jason's hand moved to his temple, and his other hand touched the opposite temple. Gradually Trevor's heart stopped pounding. There was something soothing in the touch of those small, roughened hands. He wondered how much Jason was seeing.
"Let your mind go blank, Trev." Jason's voice was gentle and calming. "Don't think of anything. Just relax."
Trevor found himself obeying. Jason's voice was almost hypnotic. Drowsiness stole oven him. "See anything?" he asked,
Jason didn't reply. Trevor opened his eyes. The boy's face was over him, set and intent, eyes closed, brow puckered. Clearly he hadn't heard the question. Trevor watched him drowsily.
His hands pressed harder suddenly, the fingers moving searchingly over his hair. "I see a little boy," he said. "It's you, Trev."
Trevor waited, hardly believing what was happening, but hardly caring either. He felt calm and strangely peaceful. Jason's hands tightened again. "I see a little girl, too. She looks like you, only older. You're holding her hand. Her name's Sally." Again Jason fell silent. Minutes went by.
Suddenly Jason's breathing quickened, and then become ragged. His eyes opened, staring sightlessly into Trevor's. His expression changed, becoming frightened, then terrified. Trevor felt his own placidity vanishing at the same moment.
"Jason, what's wrong?"
Jason cried out softly, eyes widening. The link quivered on the edge of awareness and then faded. Surprised, Trevor saw tears in his little friend's eyes.
"Oh, Trev!" Jason whispered.
"What is it?"
Again no answer. Jason's lips trembled, and suddenly his eyes focused again, regarding Trevor pityingly. "Oh, Trev! How horrible!"
"What? What did you see?"
Jason took a deep breath and began to speak slowly. "I saw you and your sister, Sally. You were playing in the street. I saw a building and a windowsill with a flowerpot on it, full of yellow flowers like daisies. The sun was shining."
"Go on."
"Your name wasn't Richard. It was Howard. They called you Howie."
“Howie! You’re kidding!”
“No.”
“Are you sure of this? It doesn’t ring a bell. None of it does.”
"I'm sure," Jason said. "Your memory is very detailed. I saw it clearly, along with quite a few other things."
"Did you get my last name?"
“I think it was Kinsey…or something similar. I don’t think you were sure, yourself, at that age. I saw your mother, too: a lady with dark hair and eyes. She looked like you. You didn’t have a father. Your mother’d told you he was dead.”
“Go on. What happened? How did I end up in the trash can?”
Jason frowned. “This is al from a child’s point of view, and I’m not sure how much distortion there is. I saw a man entering your room -- a big man, wearing a black and red uniform and a silver helmet. It must have been a 'trol, although the uniform was a little different in your memory than the uniforms are now. This guy grabbed you and carried you out, screaming for your mom and sister. Nobody answered. You were put in an aircar and taken somewhere. It was night, I think, and you remember driving through a big city and being taken into a building. A Jilectan was there. Your sister and mother were brought in a few minutes later, and the Jil examined all of you. Then the Jil said something to the 'trols and you were dragged out. Your mother and sister were left behind. You never saw them again.”
"Holy space!" Trevor muttered.
“Then you bit one of the 'trols, and he hit you and threw you against the wall. Your memory is waking up in the trash can and screaming for help. You were there a long time, when at last this guy found you and took you to the orphanage.”
Trevor lay back, staring up at the ceiling. “How old was I?”
“Three,” Jason said. “You’d just had a birthday. Your sister, Sally, gave you a stuffed teddy bear she’d made for you. I think she was about seven or eight when it happened. You thought of her as a real big girl.”
"Holy space!" Trevor muttered again. "And all this time I thought my parents did it.”
"I didn't,” Jason said.
"I wonder why the 'trols brought us in. And what happened to my mom and sister --”
There was a soft quiver within the ship, then a gentle thump. Jason sat up. “We’ve landed!"
"Yeah. I wonder where." Trevor continued to stare up at the ceiling.
Jason had been right from the first. He had been kidnapped, although the circumstances were a bit different from those of a routine kidnapping. Why had the Patrol taken in a woman and her two children, then thrown the smaller child in a sealed trash can? What had happened to the other two prisoners? Trevor didn't like to think of it. Howard! What a name! There'd been a Howard Gillman in the Patrol and Trevor had despised the guy.
Jason spoke. "Somebody's coming."
Trevor sat up, and an instant later the door swished open. The light flashed on revealing the Arcturian in the doorway, blaster in hand, mouth open, fangs gleaming. Beside him was another pirate, a Terran, with a shaved head and a black, bushy beard. The Terran also held a blaster, which hovered between Trevor and Jason. The hard lines on his face relaxed slowly. "I’ll be damned! They're still here!"
The Arcturian holstered his weapon and approached. "Ze door wass unlocked, and ze alarm wass dissabled."
Jason patted back a yawn. "That so?" He sounded only mildly interested.
"Yess." A pause. "Did you unlock zee door, pssychic?"
"Yes, I did," Jason said coolly. "I don't like being locked in. I hope you don't mind."
The alien gave a sibilant hiss. The Terran laughed uproariously. "Not so long as you stay put, psychic."
Jason smiled cheerfully. "Did you want something, sir?"
"Hiss Lordsship hass commanded uss to bring you. Come."
"Both of us?" Jason asked.
"Yess."
Trevor swung his feet to the deck and went over to his own bed to pick up his boots, feeling butterflies in his stomach at the thought of facing the Jil again. Jason also pulled on his shoes and stood up, running a hand over his head.
"I don't suppose you have a razor on you?" Trevor asked. "I need a shave."
"His Lordship won't care. Come quickly."
They followed the pirates out.
Again they traversed the corridor and reached the Jilectan's suite, but their escort kept going. They came to a lift and boarded. The Terran pressed a button, and they moved smoothly downward.
**********
tbc
