Boys of Aurora

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons alive or dead is coincidental. The venue is fictional and any resemblance to actual bases, locations, is coincidental.

This story takes place in 1976 Canada and reflects the mores, traditions, customs, etc., of the times. I urge all of those who read this story to remember that what is "politically correct" today, was not thought of back then. If you are Lib-Left, politically correct and have jumped on the bandwagons of whatever causes are the fads of the month, please do not continue past this point. This also applies the so-called "Religious" Right and "Moral" Majority. I respectfully remind you that the "Good Book" also contains proscriptions, restrictions, dos and don'ts that I don't see or hear any of you thumping bibles about. Write me, I'll be glad to give you some excellent web sites. To all the anti-this and anti-that, Bible Thumpers, Libertarians and the ACLU, the bankrupt and increasingly irrelevant United Nations, please do not send me e-mails espousing whatever cause you're touting. I have no time for claptrap.

As this work contains scenes of explicit sexual acts of a homosexual nature, if such erotica offends you, please move on to a tamer site. If your mainstay in life is Bible-thumping cant, please move on. If you are not of legal age to read, possess or download writings of an erotic nature, or if possession, reading, etc., is illegal where you live, please move on.

This story is written in an age without worry, and as such unprotected sex is practiced exclusively. I urge all of you to NEVER engage in sexual acts without proper protection. The life you save will be your own.

I will respond to all e-mails (except flames). Please contact me at my home address: paradegi@rogers.com

The Boys Of Aurora - Chapter 25

As the Band thumped out Sarie Marais and the parade marched north toward the field beside the Mess Hall, where it would disperse, Steve drove The Phantom and the Commanding Officer to the Headquarters Building where, after a short interval The Gunner, Doc, Number One and the officers joined them for celebratory sherry and biscuits in the Commanding Officer's cabin. After a medicinal sherry Number One confessed to The Phantom that he doubted that Chef was wearing a corset. The imp, he confessed, had consumed him and he had wanted to see how The Phantom would handle himself. Somewhat sourly The Phantom opined that it had certainly given him something to think about, and quite possibly have nightmares about for the next week!

Father dragged out the Ship's Guest Book and insisted that The Phantom sign it. The Phantom tried to demur, but Father was insistent. The Phantom, after being assured that the Lieutenant-Governor was indeed the Queen's representative, and that he, The Phantom, had been the representing the Lieutenant-Governor, signed just his first name with a flourish and for years afterward succeeding Commanding Officers wondered what the devil HRH Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh, had been doing in HMCS AURORA in August of 1976!

As soon as he could The Phantom made his excuses and slipped away, back to the Mess Hall and the galley, where he felt much more at home than he ever did in the officers flats. After changing into his workday uniform he went into the galley where Chef, no longer the smart Chief Petty Officer, was holding court, being of the opinion that if the Commanding Officer could host the officers and other assorted riffraff to sherry and biscuits in his cabin, he could host his lambs and assorted other riffraff, to beer and sticky buns in the galley. One beer to a customer, thank you, and no sass from the Lower Deck!

Eventually order prevailed and the cooks set about preparing lunch. They would not have to worry about dinner as Sunday Routine was piped, which meant that there would be no work done after 1200, and that everybody who was not on Defaulters or part of the Duty Watch, could go ashore. Buses were laid on and Andy, after a flying visit to the Supply Officer of CFB Comox, (known as Nabob the Paybob for his alleged access to unlimited wealth - the Supply accounts), drew extra cash to pay for dinner ashore for all hands.

Lunch was a boisterous affair. Cabin fever had set in and all but a relative handful of cadets would be departing on Thursday, leaving only the Staff Cadets and a few volunteers behind to help close down the ship for the winter. All the boys were eager for tomorrow to come, for it meant that they were one day closer to going home. The Phantom kept a close eye on the Twins but they did nothing that would cause anyone grief. They did sit apart, however, as they had at breakfast, observing a lunch hour truce.

After lunch The Phantom decided to return the sword that he had worn earlier in the day. He left the galley and was walking toward the Drill Shed when the ship's van, with Nicholas at the helm, and Andre firmly ensconced beside him, pulled to a stop. Nicholas stuck his head out of the window. "Hey, Phantom, are you going to be around later?" he asked.

The Phantom grinned at the two boys. He had not heard about the meeting the morning before, and had been much too busy since then to eavesdrop and get caught up on current events. Nodding his head as he walked to the side of the van The Phantom said, "I should be around all day." He leaned in the window and greeted Andre. "Hey, Andre, you look happy."

"He should be, Phantom," replied Nicholas with a huge grin. He lost his grin when he saw the fleeting look of fright cross Andre's face. "It's all right," he said to Andre. "Phantom is a friend." Nicholas turned to The Phantom. "You might as well know, Phantom, I came out yesterday morning."

The Phantom, stunned, opened his eyes wide. "You did?"

Nicholas nodded and got out of the truck. He motioned for Andre to remain behind and gestured for The Phantom to walk with him a little way down the path. "There was a meeting, yesterday morning, when we talked about the parade," began Nicholas. "Amongst other things."

"Obviously," replied The Phantom with slight grin.

Nicholas smiled thinly. "Tyler was very . . . emotional, Phantom, and while he did not come right out and say it, I think I know what you did to Little Big Man."

The Phantom took a step backwards. "Nicholas . . ."

Nicholas held up his hand. "Tyler said little, but from what the others added, I think I put two and two together and came up with four." He held out his hand. "You deserved that parade this morning, Phantom. I mean that with all my heart. You made it easier for me to find the courage to tell my messmates about Andre and me."

The Phantom grasped Nicholas's hand and shook it firmly. "As much as I appreciate the sentiment, Nicholas, I have to tell you that everybody knows that you and Andre have been an item from the minute you got off the bus from Victoria."

"So I keep hearing," replied Nicholas, chuckling dryly. "Andre almost fainted when I told him that everybody knew about us."

"Poor kid," sympathized The Phantom softly. He brightened. "Still, it's better to sail under your own colours, don't you think?"

Nicholas nodded. "Phantom, I love Andre and I hated having to sneak around. Now, at least for a little while, we can be together, just be ourselves." He shook his head. "Andre leaves on Thursday and I am here until the end of the month. I don't know how I will stand not having him around me."

"Nicholas, in any relationship there are bound to be separations," said The Phantom gently. "I am sure Andre understands that." He gave Nicholas's arm a slight punch. "Just think about what is going to happen when you get back to Montreal. " He rolled his eyes. "Ooh-la-la!"

Nicholas roared with laughter. "Jesus, Phantom, I really appreciate your attitude. I was a little afraid that you might not, you know . . ." he hesitated and ducked his head. " . . . Approve."

The Phantom was even more stunned than he had been when Nicholas had told him about coming out. "Why would you think that? Hell and sheeit, Nicholas, I am happy for you, happy for both of you."

Nicholas gave The Phantom a quizzical look. "But . . . Phantom, I mean you're a real nice guy, but well, straight guys do not always understand about people . . . like me."

"Nicholas, let me make one thing very clear to you," replied The Phantom, looking evenly at the young Signalman. "I always tell the truth, at least to my friends. I understand how you feel about Andre, and how he feels about you. I am very happy for you both."

Nicholas, smiled happily as he said, "Thanks, Phantom, that means a lot, coming from you."

The Phantom shrugged. "I mean it, Nicholas. You and Andre are good together. It's just too bad that there isn't some place other than the Flag Locker for you two to be alone. There is not a hell of a lot of room in there and when two guys are in love they want to . . ."

Nicholas blushed. Then his jaw dropped and for a moment he was consumed with embarrassment. Phantom was a good friend, but he sure as hell did not need to know that Andre and he had . . .

"So, Andre finally made an honest man of you!" exclaimed The Phantom with an evil chuckle. He had seen the blush rise in Nicholas's face, and the look that had come into the boy's eyes.

Nicholas nodded slowly. "Last night, Andre and me, we said our vows."

"Your what?"

"We sort of . . . I don't know, got married?" replied Nicholas, ducking his head and blushing deeply.

The Phantom gave Nicholas a look. "Married?"

Nicholas nodded and looked embarrassed. "We were in the laundry, and, well, I told him about the meeting and suddenly it was right. It was time for us to make a commitment, so we did." He grabbed The Phantom's arm and squeezed tightly. "I know guys cannot really get married, but Phantom, we did in a way!" Relaxing his grip, Nicholas blurted hurriedly, "We were in the laundry, doing our duds, and we saw Harry and Todd go by, and well, Andre got a little upset. He thought that they wouldn't understand."

"Understand what?" asked The Phantom, curious as to the circumstances that had led Nicholas and Andre to make their commitment.

"Well, we were holding hands at the time . . ."

The Phantom snickered. "In the laundry?"

Nicholas did not take offence. "Well, it sure beats the Flag Locker!" He laughed quietly and continued on. "Anyway, after I explained to Andre that people knew about us, and that I had told the other guys about us, he, well, he decided that the time was right for us to . . . we . . ." He squirmed, unable to put into words the wonder he had experienced during the night.

"You made love," said The Phantom simply.

Nicholas's head bobbed. "It was so wonderful, Phantom. I cannot begin to explain how wonderful it was and how I feel about Andre."

A soft, wistful smile came over The Phantom's face and his green eyes filled with affection. "I rather think I know how you feel, Nicholas."

"You do?" Nicholas looked quizzically at The Phantom, thinking that there was much more to this young man than any of his friends really knew.

"Sure," affirmed The Phantom with a smile. "You both knew that it was time for you to confirm what you felt for each other. I can understand that, Nicholas."

Nicholas sighed with relief. "I could have waited until we were, well, in a better place, but Andre wanted to do it here, so we did and then, afterwards, he told me that I was his love and his life, his heart and his soul." His eyes watered a bit. "I told him that I would love him to the end of the world. We made our vows, Phantom."

The Phantom nodded his understanding. "Sounds like getting married to me, Nicholas. But, you disappoint me," he said, his face darkening.

Perplexed at his friend's sudden change in attitude, Nicholas looked askance at The Phantom. "What? But . . . I thought you understood about . . ."

The Phantom suddenly dropped the sword he had been holding, grabbed Nicholas, lifted him up, and spun him around. Nicholas protested loudly but was quickly silenced when The Phantom gave him a big wet kiss on the lips.

"Now, where's that other rat bag?" demanded The Phantom when he released Nicholas. He walked quickly to the passenger side of the van, opened the door and pulled the unsuspecting and frightened Andre from the seat.

"Phantom . . . ma foi . . . maudit Anglais . . ." began Andre, yelping in protest.

The Phantom held Andre up and shook him. "I am very upset with you, Andre," he said in mock anger.

Andre squirmed and his eyes widened, afraid of what Phantom was going to do to him. "Please, Phantom, you must understand about Nicholas and me . . ."

"Oh, I do," replied The Phantom as he lowered Andre to the ground. He bent low and held out his hand. Andre, still unsure of what was happening, took The Phantom's hand. He was completely unprepared for what happened next. The Phantom pulled Andre into a bear hug, released him, kissed him on both cheeks, then spun him around and patted his well-formed bum. "Next time you make your vows you damned well invite me, you little Frog git!" he ordered.

Nicholas, who finally understood what The Phantom was doing, started to laugh. "Damn, Phantom, it's not like we planned to do it. It just happened."

The Phantom pulled both boys close to him and draped an arm around each boy's shoulder. "I am damned happy for you guys." He gave them both another hug. "There's some champers left over from the Dinner. Drive 'round the Mess Hall later and I'll give you a bottle."

"Shit!" exploded Nicholas. "That reminds me why I stopped in the first place!" He pulled away from The Phantom's embrace and stuck his head and upper body into the van. "Andre, where did we put that flag?"

Andre snickered and rolled his eyes. "In the glove compartment. You said to put it there so I did not lose it!"

"Oh, yeah." Nicholas opened the glove box and pulled out a long white pendant superimposed with a red St. George's cross. He handed it to The Phantom. "This is for you. A souvenir of your first Inspection."

The Phantom unfolded the flag and held it up. "Flag Eight?"

Nicholas nodded. "It's an old Bunting Tosser tradition to fly it from the yard when the high-priced help come calling."

The Phantom laughed, remembering his lessons with The Gunner. "I get it. Enemy in Sight!"

"You got it." Nicholas gestured to Andre. "We've got to boogie. I have some very important business to finish at Base."

"Such as?" asked The Phantom.

"You remember all those pictures we took when we were sailing?" The Phantom nodded. "Well, I have a surprise for everybody who was on the trip. I also need you to be around early tomorrow morning. I need you to run interference with Chef."

"Chef? What has he got to do with the pictures?" asked The Phantom, curious as to what Nicholas was up to.

Andre giggled and The Phantom gave him a stern look. "You know what's going on?"

Andre nodded. "I cannot tell you, cher Phantom. If I do, Nicholas, he says, no more sinning!"

The Phantom joined Nicholas in laughing at Andre's remark. Nicholas got in the van and nodded toward the Mess Hall. "I have a huge surprise all laid on for tomorrow morning. I just do not need Chef to come waddling in while I'm in the middle of . . ."

"What are you up to, Nicholas?" asked The Phantom, suspicious.

Nicholas pretended innocence. "Let's just say that tomorrow morning there will be some new decorations in the Mess Hall." He looked pointedly at The Phantom. "I need you to help. How early can you come in?"

The Phantom thought a moment. "I usually get in around 0400, sometimes 0430."

"What about Chef?"

"Hell and sheeit, Nicholas, you know him. He's like a blue-arsed fly. You never know what he's up to or when he'll show up. Sometimes he's in at 0400, sometimes he lets Ray and Sandro handle things and doesn't show up until noon!"

Nicholas frowned. "Damn, I really would like it if he wasn't around."

"Maybe you'll get lucky and he'll decide to get blitzed tonight . . ." The Phantom smiled a conspirator's smile. "Or maybe I can talk to a certain Leading Gunner."

Nicholas looked quizzically at The Phantom. "I know that you and The Gunner are close, Phantom, but I have to tell you, he might not like what I have planned."

"If it's not illegal, I think I can get him to at least keep Chef busy tonight. And if I sweet talk him, he'll loan me his car so I can come in extra early tomorrow morning." The Phantom chuckled. "Hey, I can get him to loan me his car and he'll get Chef to pick him up and bring him in! I'll talk to him when I give him back his sword and . . . HELL AND SHEEIT, the sword!" He looked around and saw the sword lying at the side of the path. He scooped it up and hurriedly brushed the dust from the scabbard. "I'll work on him, Nicholas."

"While you're working on him see if you can work on the Twins. I could use them as well."

"Are they in the Gunroom? I haven't seen them much all day."

"No. They had to put their guns to bed, pat their little bottoms and polish their wheels. Then they had to scrutinize some rewrites for the Gunnery IIIs who blew their exams."

"I hear they're feuding," said The Phantom, trying hard not to let Nicholas know that he was fishing for information.

Nicholas nodded. "You got that right! They've been like two bears with sore peckers since they crawled out of their fart sacks this morning."

"What set them off now? They were happy as clams last night."

Nicholas shrugged his ignorance of what the Twins were feuding about. "You got me, Phantom. Harry knows, but the big lug is not talking. He's too busy trying to dig up the scratch to pay for the Band's refreshments in town."

"Harry, he dropped the Mace," advised Andre with a grin. "It is a very bad thing for him to do." Then he added, a note of triumph in his voice. "Now he must pay."

Nicholas sniffed. "If anybody pays, it should be you! You are the one who made him drop the damned thing!"

"But, Nicholas, all I said . . ."

"I know what you said," returned Nicholas with a laugh. "Phantom, I really have to go. I'll see you when I get back."

"And you will see me on Friday," said The Phantom quietly. He saw the puzzled look on Nicholas's face. "There's something on, Nicholas, and I would like you to be a witness to it."

Nicholas nodded. "Okay, but . . ."

The Phantom held up his hand. "I'll let you know where and when."

As he climbed back into the truck Nicholas wondered what was so important to The Phantom that he needed a witness to whatever it was he was up to. As turned the engine over he said, "I'll be there. And I'll see you later."

The Phantom waved as Nicholas put the van in gear and drove off. He was very happy for both boys, and a little envious, because they at least now had no reason to hide their feelings, at least not here in AURORA. But on Friday, he would . . . After Friday they would all know the real Phantom. He wondered how they would take it. He returned to walking toward the Drill Shed, trying to sort out his thoughts, wondering what his life would be like after Friday, wondering what Nicholas was up to and wondering what had set the Twins off this time.

In the Chiefs Mess, Tyler was enjoying a quiet after-lunch drink with Mark and Tony. Nathan, in an unusual and uncharacteristic rush of enthusiasm, had volunteered to take the soiled Number 11 uniforms into town and have them laundered. He had even made a point of going down to the Dockyard for Chief Anders' uniform and, to prove that he was not being completely altruistic, had managed to talk Caspar Collins into going with him. Val was also absent. As Cadet Chief Gunnery Instructor he, like the Twins, was required to help the sluggards in the Gunnery Department to pass their final examination.

Mark, as the author of Tyler's deflowering (or so he thought), was eager to hear all the details of what had happened between Tyler and Val. Tony told him that he had nose trouble and pretended to be disgusted with his friend and lover. "So, how was it?" asked Mark of Tyler, ignoring Tony's scowling face.

Tyler took a sip of his drink and coloured. "Mark, it was . . . hell, it was wonderful." He was lying on his bunk, his back against the bulkhead, a dreamy expression on his face. "If I had known how wonderful it was I would not have waited so long."

Mark smiled and raised his glass in a toast. "Welcome to the club, Tyler."

Tony snorted derisively. "Jesus, Mark, leave the guy alone. You're worse than an old granny."

Tyler grinned. "It's okay, Tony. He is not going to get anything else out of me. He will just have to be satisfied with me telling him that being with Val was wonderful."

Mark assumed a pained expression. "Really, Tyler, I did set everything up for you."

"Balls!" retorted Tony. "Andy asked you yesterday morning to come over after the Dinner." He gave Mark a dirty look. "Why don't you ask him how big his dick got?"

"Tyler's or Val's?" asked Mark, pretending ignorance.

Tony gave Mark a scornful, dismissive look, turned to Tyler. "I'm glad that everything worked out for you, Tyler. I hope you will be as happy as I am with the doofus here."

"I think I will be," replied Tyler. "Val is a wonderful person and he's an old fashioned guy. It was so cute. Before we, you know, before we did anything, he gave me . . ."

Tony sat up with a start. "He gave you a gift of gold!"

Tyler looked at Tony and nodded. "Yes, as a matter of fact he did."

"Ah, the sly Sicilian," wailed Tony with an exaggerated sigh. "He brings a gift of gold, then has his way with the fair and unsuspecting shepherd boy." He shook his head sadly and then gave Mark a sideways glance. Tony was off on a leg-pull. "You'll never see him again," he said with a mournful look.

Tyler's jaw dropped. "What the hell are you talking about? He lives here, for Christ's sake!"

Tony nodded sagely. "True. But unless he has asked for a dowry he . . ."

"He did," replied Tyler, totally confused. "What has that got to do with anything?"

Tony smiled knowingly. "Ah, the fox-like Sicilian. He has his way with you and then demands a huge dowry to make an honest man of you." He gestured to Tyler. "Stand up, I want to have a look at you."

"What?"

"Stand up, Tyler. If I am going to be the intermediario I need to know what I am working with."

"You know what you are working with," snapped Mark. "You once used him as an anatomy lesson, remember? You've seen all of him!" He snorted in disgust. "And what the hell is an 'intermediario' anyway?"

"The go-between," replied Tony, pretending disgust at his lover's ignorance. "Somebody has to look out for Tyler's interests. It's a very important thing, a dowry and . . ."

"Who asked you?" demanded Mark. "Tyler doesn't need you queering his pitch! Not to mention that you are not even Sicilian!"

"I am Callabrese," replied Tony, pride in his voice. "We know the Sicilian fox! He will take advantage of this poor Inglese. I am simpatico. I will be Tyler's representative. Val has met his match in me! I will see that the dowry is worthy of Tyler!"

"Last night Val got all the dowry out me he is going to get," said Tyler angrily. "Twice!"

While Mark and Tony collapsed with laughter Tyler, who realized what he had just said, turned three shades of red and pulled his sheet over his head.

Cory heard the loud laughter from the Chiefs' Mess and smiled. From the looks of both Tyler and Val last night had been their birthdays, Christmas, and maybe the First of July all rolled into one. He hoped that their relationship would last. They deserved each other, and should be with each other. He pulled up his shorts and looked into his locker for a clean T-shirt. He could feel Todd's eyes boring into him, but ignored his brother. Cory was hurt and angry, and he had done nothing wrong. Todd's accusations had cut him deeply.

Todd was lying on his bunk, staring at his brother and wondering how he was going to make the peace with him. Todd knew that he had been wrong, had admitted he had being wrong, and still Cory was barely speaking to him. He coughed and sat up. "Do you want to go into town?" Todd asked, testing the waters.

Turning slowly, Cory looked at Todd, his eyes cold. "Thank, you, but no," he replied formally. He sat down on his bunk and pulled on his running shoes. "Actually, I thought I would go down to the Dockyard."

Todd's face clouded but he bit his tongue. He stood up and looked in his locker for his sports gear. "We could go to the Canteen," he suggested.

"I thought you were broke," replied Cory, looking up. He finished tying his shoes and stood up. "Not that it matters. The canteen is closed today. The manager has decided to take stock."

"Oh."

"If you hurry you can make the bus to town." Cory smiled knowingly. "Harry would love for you to go with him." He walked away from his bunk and down the corridor to the outside.

Todd hurriedly dressed and ran after his brother. He caught up with Cory and grabbed his arm. Cory swung around, a look of fire in his eyes. "Damn it, Cory, don't do this to me," pleaded Todd. "I said that I'm sorry."

"Sorry? You call me a slut? You accuse me of sleeping with everything with a dick, and you're sorry?" raged Cory.

"I never called you a slut," protested Todd angrily. "I never accused . . ."

"You as much as said it!" roared Cory. "You thought that I had gone off with Phil Thornton. You refused to believe me when I told you that I had done nothing, nothing at all, with Sean! Think about it, big brother, think how that made me feel!"

Todd was not seeing the warning signs. Cory was angry beyond reason. His eyes were mere slits and his fists were bunched. "I did not want you to be hurt!" replied Todd, his tone reasonable and placatory. "I remembered how hurt you had been when Sean . . ."

"I am the one who rejected Sean! I am the one who walked away!"

"And so did he," returned Todd curtly. "He treated you like shit! Or have you forgotten that?"

Cory shook his head. "No, Todd, I have not forgotten anything. That doesn't mean that I cannot forgive. Sean apologized to me."

"Why? He still have the hots for you?" asked Todd cruelly.

Cory growled but kept his temper in check. "And what if he has? What business is it of yours if he wants to be with me?"

"Look, Cory, all I want to be sure of is that you're not going to be hurt by him again. I love you, damn it. You are my brother and . . ." Todd held out his hands in a conciliatory gesture. " . . . I do not want to see you hurt."

"Sean would never hurt me," replied Cory, calmer. "He never asked to sleep with me. He never intimated that he wanted me other than as a friend." He turned to walk away and then stopped. "And what if he did want me, Todd? What if he does want to have sex with me?"

"He's not good enough for you!" returned Todd with a snarl. "Maybe he doesn't want to get into your pants now, but I know his kind. He will be after your bones soon enough!"

Cory's jaw dropped and he worked his mouth, trying not to lose his temper further. "You . . . you have no reason to say that!"

"No? Well try this on for size, little brother," growled Todd. "For three years he ignored you. For three years he acted like you did not exist. Then, all of a sudden, he invites you down to have a drink! Give me a break, Cory." Todd squared his shoulders and set his jaw. "I am truly sorry about thinking that you had gone off with Phil. That was unkind and you did not deserve that. But I am not sorry about thinking the way I do about Sean. He's an asshole! All he wants from you is a quick fuck and then it's . . ."

Cory lowered his head. "Take that back, Todd."

"No."

"Sean might not be your idea of a hot date, Todd. But he is good and decent and he never made a move on me. Now take it back!" Cory was breathing heavily, and fire all but blew from his nostrils. "Take it back," he warned ominously.

"No!"

Cory snarled and his fist flew outward, hitting Todd square on the tip of his jaw. Todd flew backward and landed in a patch of wild blackberries. For a few moments he sat there, stunned, rubbing his jaw, not feeling the rough leaves and branches of the bush scratching his bare hide. Suddenly he was on his feet, his fists clenched. "You will regret that you little . . ." He threw a punch that Cory ducked. Cory's fist flew again but missed. Todd leaped at his brother and they both went down, hard. The battle was on.

The Phantom found The Gunner hunched over his desk finishing the After Action Report on the parade. He held up the sword and grinned. "Brought your knife back."

The Gunner tossed aside the pen he'd been writing with and smiled at his young lover. "You could have kept it, you know. I was saving it for you, anyway."

The Phantom made a small face. "Thought so." He placed the sword on the desk and sat on one corner. "Chef is giving most of the guys the afternoon off. Everybody's going into town so there is not a whole lot of work to do. Do you think that, maybe, we could . . .?"

The Gunner lay back in his chair and grinned. "Well, I do have a few things to do, but I am sure that we could figure out something."

The Phantom fiddled with the gold and black sword knot attached to the hilt of the sword and smiled mischievously. "Can you also, sort of keep Chef out of the way for a while tomorrow morning?"

The Gunner cocked his head and gave The Phantom a curious look. "Why?"

Still smiling his impish, lopsided grin The Phantom slid closer to The Gunner, lowered his head and kissed him. "Because Nicholas is up to no good and we need Chef to be . . . late tomorrow morning."

The Gunner reached up and rubbed the back of his hand across The Phantom's smiling face. "And just how do you think I should do that?"

The Phantom moaned slightly. "Well, I thought that you could loan me the car as Nicholas has asked me to help him, and maybe get Chef to come 'round and pick you up." He waggled his eyebrows lasciviously. "I promise to make it up to you tonight, or . . ." he grinned. "This afternoon?"

The Gunner chuckled. "Late this afternoon, eh?" He seemed to think a moment. "Val just gifted me with the latest efforts to pass the Gunnery III Course and I have to mark them, then I have to write the boys' Course Reports. I am sure that I can find ways to keep myself busy," he finished with a grin.

"Ah, hell and sheeit, Gunner, I wanted to . . ."

Before The Phantom could tell The Gunner exactly what he wanted to do to him they heard shouting and the pounding feet. "What the hell is that?" asked The Phantom as he jumped up and stood to one side. Someone pounded on the door to The Gunner's office. It was Matt.

"Gunner, you have to come quick," yelled Matt, who had hurried from the Staff Barracks. "The Twins are killing each other!" Matt pounded his fist against the door again but made no effort to rush inside, even though he was certain that The Gunner was in his office. It was a cardinal rule that you never, ever, opened a closed door and always knocked and waited for permission to enter.

The Gunner pushed himself out of the chair and hurried to the door. He opened it and saw Matt, flushed and out of breath. "What in the hell is going on?"

"The Twins . . . they're fighting . . . and this time they mean it!" gasped Matt, breathless from his long run from the Staff Barracks yard.

Cursing, The Gunner pushed past Matt and, with The Phantom and Matt following, hurried to the Staff Barracks yard where he was confronted with the sight of the Twins rolling in the dirt, snarling and gnashing, howling imprecations and generally beating each other to a pulp.

The word that the Twins were battling had spread quickly and a large group of cadets had formed a circle around the battling boys. Tyler, together with Val and Mark, were trying to separate the antagonists but every time they got close to the wrestling, dust covered Twins, a foot would lash out, or a fist. Wisely, the other cadets stood back and watched stoically as the Twins rolled into the brambles, yelled as the sharp leaves and branches pricked and scraped their skin, and then rolled back into the yard.

"Jumping Jesus Christ!" blasphemed The Gunner as Cory landed a hell of a haymaker on Todd's face, just under his right eye. He looked at Tyler, who shrugged.

"Don't look at me, Gunner," said Tyler defensively. "This has been coming all day."

"Why?" asked The Gunner as Cory came flying backward into him, the result of a hell of a haymaker from Todd. Having raised his forearms to cushion the impact The Gunner was in no position to restrain Cory, who bounced back into the fray. Cory slammed into Todd and they both went down again.

"Gunner, you have to stop them," yelled The Phantom. "They'll kill each other!"

"I doubt that," replied The Gunner smoothly. Then, in a more serious tone, he added, "But this has got to stop!" He glared at the Twins. "Boys, stop it! Cory, Todd!" He was roundly ignored. "God damn it!" The Gunner roared, "STOP!" Once again he was ignored. He continued to watch as the Twins battled on, wondering how best to stop the fight without injury to even more cadets. Suddenly he turned to Tyler. "Break out the fire hoses," he ordered.

"What?" Tyler's eyes were wide. "Break out the hoses?"

The Gunner pointed to the fire hose station affixed to the side of the Staff Barracks. "Tyler, break out the fire hoses, now!" He turned to the Twins, determined, though he had no idea what in the hell had started World War III, that he was going to end it. All around him the cadets rushed and unrolled the 2-inch fire hose attached to the standpipe outside the Staff Barracks. "Water on?" he asked Tyler, who, with Val and Tony were holding onto the hose as if their life depended on it.

Tyler nodded to Mark who quickly turned the valve and the hose filled with cold seawater. "It is now," replied Tyler.

"Cory, Todd, stop it," bellowed The Gunner. "Last chance before I turn the hose on you!"

The Twins stopped their fighting momentarily, gave The Gunner a combined dirty look, and then swung.

"Well, that went well," drawled The Phantom. "What next? You read the Riot Act to 'em?"

The Gunner grinned. "Okay!" Intent on making this an object lesson for all in how to quell an angry crowd without injury, he straightened and assumed a stern air. "I command you in Her Majesty's name to disperse and to keep silence while I make proclamation to that effect!"

The Twins continued to roll about in the dirt. "Well, that sure stopped them," muttered The Phantom.

"I'm not finished yet," replied The Gunner. He looked again at the Twins. "Last chance before I turn on the water, turkeys," he bellowed. Again there was no indication that the Twins had heard him, or cared if they had heard him. "Little bastards!" muttered The Gunner. The Phantom, along with Tyler and Val, began giggling. The Gunner gave the other cadets a dirty look. "Do you have any better ideas?" he asked.

"Drown the fuckers," offered Tyler.

The Gunner grimaced. "Not before they get the full treatment." He raised his hand and began quoting the Riot Act that he had learned when a member of the Esquimalt Base Defence Force. "Our Sovereign Lady the Queen charges and commands that all persons being assembled immediately do disperse themselves and peaceably do depart to their habitations or their lawful business, upon pains contained in the Act made in the first year of King George the First, for preventing tumultuous and riotous assemblies." He nodded to Tyler. "Turn on the hose!"

Grinning widely Tyler opened the valve of the nozzle and turned the water on the Twins. Almost immediately the force of the hose sent Cory flying into the bushes where he squalled and cursed loudly. The water sent Todd tumbling elbow over tip and in the process soaked The Gunner and Thumper, who was standing behind him, laughing at the Twins.

After signalling for the hose to be turned off The Gunner went over to where Todd was lying, gasping and sputtering. With graceful ease The Gunner picked Todd up, turned him over his knee, and then gave him a resounding smack on his bottom. Cory, hearing Todd's squeal of outrage, tried to scrabble away but The Gunner was too fast for him. He grabbed the squirming twin and visited the same outrage on his bottom as he had delivered to his brother. "Now, get to Sick Bay!" roared The Gunner as he dropped Cory. "When Doc is through with you report to my office and you had bloody well not be dragging your feet!"

As the cadets scampered and slithered away, not wanting the Gunner's wrath visited on their heads, or bottoms, he turned to The Phantom. "I should not have hit them. That was unforgivable."

"Bullshit!" replied The Phantom. "They deserved a lot worse!"

The Gunner shook his head. "I should not have hit them." He began walking back toward his office. "What pisses me off is I do not know what started it and they will lie through their teeth before they tell me." He shook his head. "Damned little brats!"

Under escort (Two Strokes and Fred, in full Regulating Petty Officer rig, including webbing and fearful scowls) the Twins were escorted to Sick Bay where Doc cleaned their wounds, mostly scratches and abrasions, told the pair of them that they should be ashamed of themselves, then told them to drop their drawers and bend over.

"What for?" snarled Cory.

Doc grinned maliciously and held up a huge syringe. "It is 'What for, sir,' you impudent little guttersnipe." He plunged the needle of the syringe into Cory's backside. "Tetanus, my boy. God only knows what germs are swimming around in your body after rolling in the dirt!" He grinned evilly at Todd. "You're next, me lad. Shuck 'em and bend over."

Rubbing their stinging bottoms the Twins were then escorted to The Gunner's office where, as they expected, they were given the bollocking of their young lives. The Gunner did not yell, swear or threaten. He was so calmly cold that both Twins were frightened for the first time in a long while, but not so frightened that they would confess their sins and tell the man why they were fighting.

The silence of the Twins was not unexpected. The Gunner, after expressing his disgust at their actions, barred them from any and all cadet social activities, including the barbecue after the Passing Out Parade. They were to report to the Regulating Office at 0700 every morning without fail, and again at 1800. Finally, they were confined to Base for the balance of their commission, their confinement to start immediately their parents' car cleared the main gate. It was not fair, The Gunner told the Twins, to punish their parents, who would be attending the final parade, because their sons were total FUCKUPS!

When the Twins left the office The Phantom, who had been waiting outside in the Drill Shed, saw the Gunner sitting behind his desk, his face buried in his hands, shaking his head slowly. The Phantom glared at the Twins, turned on his heel and walked briskly back to the Mess Hall.

Word of the battle royal had spread quickly from barracks to Ship's Office to Mess Hall so it was not at all surprising that Chef knew what had happened. He saw the look on The Phantom's face when the boy entered the galley and wisely decided not to mention the fracas. Chef retired to his office and busied himself with paperwork.

The Litany was nowhere in sight, and Ray and Kevin were off somewhere. Sandro, who had been hoping that Nathan would come alongside, and having seen him drive off with Caspar, accepted the situation and went about his duties, making salads for the dinner crowd. Randy and Joey, for once, were quiet and found work slicing pies and cakes.

The Phantom, his anger simmering, set to work packing up the plates and glasses used the night before at the Dinner. He worked quietly and diligently and barely felt Joey tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. He looked at the dark-haired boy and smiled. "Yes, Joey?"

Joey reached up and stroked The Phantom's face. "Don't be mad, Phantom."

"I'm not angry with you, Joey. You know that."

Joey nodded. "I know. You're mad at the Twins."

"Yes."

Joey sighed. "Cory is in the dining hall, Phantom."

"So? Go and tell him that supper's at 1700."

"He's been crying, Phantom."

"He should cry, after what he and Todd did."

Joey took a deep breath. "Phantom, you must not be like this. You love him, and he loves you."

Startled, The Phantom glanced warily at the young boy. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means what it means," replied Joey with a calm far beyond his years. "Cory loves you as much as you love Ray."

"Oh, really? Well, you don't know squat!" retorted The Phantom, worried now that perhaps he had not been as circumspect as he had thought he'd been. He saw the hurt look on Joey's face and was immediately repentant. "Hell, Joey, I did not mean that!"

"Yes, you did," replied Joey, not taking offence. "Your trouble is you think that Randy and me are too young to know the score."

"And you think you do?"

Joey shook his head. "I don't think, Phantom. I know. Randy and me, we've known about you and Ray for a long time. We also know that you and The Gunner are together." He saw the horrified look on The Phantom's face. "Come on, Phantom, every day for a month you rode in here on your bike. Then, all of a sudden, after we'd come back from Victoria, you're riding in with The Gunner."

"Yeah? Well, maybe he picks me up every morning and drives me in," protested The Phantom feebly.

"And maybe you don't kiss him goodbye before you get out of his car," returned Joey, a smug, knowing look on his face. "We see things, Phantom. We see them, but we don't talk about them." He reached out his arms and pulled The Phantom down to his level. "We love you, Phantom. We would never tell anybody what we saw, or heard." He gave The Phantom a quick peck on the lips. "That's for not playing with our willies, and for not waking up when we played with yours." He immediately jumped back and covered his head with his arms.

The Phantom reached out and slowly pulled Joey's arms away from his face. "Joey, are you telling me that you and Randy . . .?"

Joey blushed furiously. "You were asleep, and you got a boner. We just felt it a bit is all. Honest!"

The Phantom sputtered and tried not to laugh at Joey's confession. "Joey! How could you?"

"It was easy, really," replied Joey easily. It was sticking out of the front of your undies so we felt it." He quickly covered his face again. "Oh, shit!"

The Phantom waited until Joey dropped his hands from his face then looked at the boy sternly. "Would you mind telling me why it's not all right for your brother to play with your willy but it's all right for you to play with mine?"

"We didn't play with it," insisted Joey. With lopsided logic he continued on. "All we did was feel it. We didn't play with it."

The Phantom threw up his hands. "Joey, how many times do I have to tell you? You cannot go around feeling up every guy you like!"

"We don't!" Joey crossed his arms and gave The Phantom a hard look. "We could, but we don't. It's just Randy and me. It will always be just Randy and me."

The Phantom, who hated looking down at people because it implied disrespect, bent down and put his hands on Joey's thin shoulders. "Joey, I love you and Randy, you know that." Joey nodded. "Because I love you, I want you to understand that sometimes its best if we keep certain things to ourselves."

Joey thought a moment. "Why? I'm not ashamed to love Randy. I'm not ashamed to love you. Why are you ashamed to love us back?"

For a moment The Phantom was dumbstruck. Then he muttered, "And a little child shall lead them." He looked directly into Joey's eyes. "I want you to know that I was never ashamed to . . . love you, or Randy. It's just that sometimes its best to keep certain things to yourself." He gave Joey a hug. "I love you, you little git!" He gave Joey a searching look. "Did your chit to stay until the end of the month get approved?"

Joey nodded. "Randy's, too."

The Phantom beamed and ruffled Joey's hair. "Good, because on Friday I am going to do something special. I want you and Randy to be there when I do it!"

"We don't have to take our clothes off, or anything?" asked Joey, a sceptical look in his eye

"No, you keep your clothes on, I promise."

"Good."

The Phantom stood up and glanced toward the door leading to the dining room. "How bad is he?" he asked, referring to Cory.

"Bad. He's been crying."

"Did he say anything?"

Joey shook his head. "He just asked if you were around." Once again Joey stroked The Phantom's arm. "He's hurting, Phantom. He needs somebody to hold him close, like you did with Randy and me. Please, Phantom, he needs you."

The Phantom nodded slowly. "Go and ask him, no, take him into the lounge. I'll talk to him in there."

Joey nodded and left the galley. The Phantom turned around and saw Chef looking at him. Chef said nothing, just nodded curtly and went back into his office.

The Phantom pushed open the door to the lounge and saw Cory, who was sitting on one of the sofas, his hands between his knees, his head hung low. Cory seemed not hear as The Phantom entered the room. The Phantom sat down beside Cory, lifted up his chin and gently pushed his head to one side. He looked at the huge bruise marring Cory's peaches and cream colouring, clucked sympathetically and shook his head. Cory's eyes were red-rimmed, and filled with tears. "I fucked up, Phantom," he whispered.

"Yes, you did," replied The Phantom. "Want to talk about it?"

"What is there to talk about? I started a fight with Todd. It was stupid, and foolish." He shook his head and his body was wracked with his sobbing. "I let The Gunner down, again. God, how he must hate me!"

The Phantom gathered Cory in his arms and shushed him. He stroked Cory's back and head until he calmed down. "Cory, The Gunner doesn't hate you. Right now he hates himself."

Cory looked at The Phantom, his face tear-streaked and his eyes bloodshot. "What?"

"All in good time. Now, tell me, why did you and Todd fight? What happened?"

Drawing in a deep breath, Cory said slowly, "After you left the Gunroom, after The Gunner left the Gunroom, I went down to the Dockyard and had a drink with Sean Anders. Todd accused me of . . ." He looked at The Phantom pleadingly. "Phantom, he thought that Sean and I were screwing! He would not believe me when I told him that all we did was talk!" He buried his face in The Phantom's chest and the whole story came tumbling out. The Phantom listened patiently while Cory bared his soul. Cory was horribly hurt by his brother's accusations, by his insinuations. " . . . And then Todd accused me of going off with Phil Thornton! He thought that of me, his own brother!"

The Phantom cleared his throat and made Cory sit up. He wiped the tears away from Cory's face. "First of all, stop crying. It will only make your face uglier than it is now."

Cory sniffed loudly and grinned sheepishly. "It's bad, huh?"

The Phantom nodded. "You're going to have one hell of a shiner, Cory."

At that moment Randy entered the lounge and wordlessly handed Cory a heavy-packed napkin. "What's this?" Cory asked as he examined the package.

"An ice pack for your face," explained Randy, his face impassive. "Chef says to use it 'cause it will help keep down the swelling."

"Thanks, Randy," said Cory as he pressed the ice-filled napkin to his face.

Randy gave Cory a pitying glance. "Don't thank me, thank Chef," he said flatly, and left the room.

"What's his problem?" demanded Cory. "Shit, this is cold!"

"Good," replied The Phantom. "And as for Randy, well, Cory, whether you like it or not the boys look up to you. You are, after all, a Chief Petty Officer and, according to their lights, Chiefs not only do not play with little cadets' willies, they do not scrabble around in the dirt like street boys!"

Cory was silent for several long moments. He laid his head against The Phantom's chest. "I hurt Todd, I hurt The Gunner, and I hurt the other guys."

"Yes."

"God, Phantom, I don't know what to do. If only Todd had believed me about Sean. I can't understand why Todd thought the way he did."

The Phantom thought a moment. "Cory, all of your life Todd has looked after you, and protected you. In a way you will always be his little brother and you will always need him."

"Damn it, Phantom, I do not need his protection! I can handle my own affairs! I can make up my own mind about things. I do not need my brother nursemaiding me!" Cory put the icepack against his eye and winced. "I can look after myself, and it's time that Todd understood that!"

"Instead of telling me, and punching him out, why didn't you try telling him that?"

"Because I was pissed off with him!" replied Cory honestly. "He had no right to assume that I was off screwing some big-dicked Chief! I wasn't! He had no right assuming that Sean was after my hoop." He paused and looked evenly at The Phantom. "And so what if he is? It's my hoop!"

The Phantom's right eyebrow rose slowly. "Is he?"

"Who?"

"Sean. Is he after your hoop?"

"Jesus, Phantom, not you as well!" Cory struggled to pull away.

The Phantom held him close. "I am asking a perfectly legitimate question. Is Todd right in his suspicions?"

Cory shook his head. "Phantom, Sean is in all probability in love with me."

"An unrequited love, I take it," replied The Phantom.

Cory looked up and sniffed. "To be honest, Phantom, I don't know what I feel about Sean. He's so wooden, and formal, and . . . cold. He's not at all like the Sean I knew in Kingston. That Sean was warm, and funny, someone I wanted as a friend."

"Obviously he has changed," said The Phantom. "I admit, I do not know him all that well, so I am hesitant to make a judgement call."

"He's afraid, Phantom. He wants to make a career in the Navy, like you. He has already been accepted as a Naval Cadet in HMCS DISCOVERY."

"He's afraid of that?"

Cory chuckled mirthlessly. "He's gay, Phantom, and he is so deathly afraid that someone will find out that he is. It would mean the end of his career. You of all people should know what Sean is going through. You are not as afraid as he is, but let's not forget that if anyone ever finds out about . . . The Gunner, and us, your career is deep-sixed. Even if I wanted to, Sean would never consider a relationship with me."

"Oh, and have you tried asking him?" came a voice.

Both Cory and The Phantom turned. Sean Anders was standing in the doorway.

"S . . .Sean, what are you doing here?" asked Cory. For some reason he clung closer to The Phantom, as if afraid of what Sean was going to say.

"Bad news travels with the speed of light," replied Sean. He gestured toward a chair. "May I sit down?"

The Phantom nodded, then held out his hand. "We have not met, really. My name is Philip Lascelles. All the boys call me Phantom."

Sean nodded, shook The Phantom's hand, and sat down. He looked harshly at Cory. "I understand that you and Todd were up to your childish tricks again."

Cory groaned. "Please, Sean, I do not need you sitting in judgement like some ill-omened, avenging angel! I also do not need your opinion on the subject."

"Indeed?" returned Sean archly. "One hates to shock you, Cory, but one must point out that since one is the root cause of the problem . . ."

Cory rolled his eyes, and then looked at The Phantom. "See? He could say that he's pissed off at me, but no, he's got to sound like Lord Justice George Bloody Assizes Jeffreys!"

"An ill-tempered magistrate who believed fervently in capital punishment," replied Sean equably. His demeanour did not change and his voice was flat. "I understand that Chief Winslow was somewhat upset with you and your brother." He shook his head. "Had you come before me I would have thrown the book at you. Fighting as if you were . . ."

"Oh, you would, would you?" interrupted Cory with a sneer.

"Yes, I would have," returned Sean, his voice hard. "There was no excuse for your conduct. I would have taken away your rate, dipped you down to Able Cadet and sent you home on the next bus."

Before Cory could reply The Phantom nodded his head in agreement with Sean's judgement. "Sean is right, Cory. You went from being the ideal Chief to being . . . I do not know what to call you. You and Todd got off easy."

"Oh, so Sean has fashioned the gibbet and you're weaving the noose, then?"

"Sarcasm ill becomes you, Cory," rejoined Sean, his voice calm and emotionless. "It is my considered opinion that . . ."

"Stuff your 'considered opinion'," snapped Cory. He tried to get up but The Phantom held him close.

"Cory shut up and stay right where you are," ordered The Phantom. "You're going to listen to me, and then you can listen to Sean." He gave Cory a hug, ignoring the look on Sean's face. "Cory, you have to make your peace with Todd. Even though he was wrong in what he said about . . ." he glanced at Sean. ". . . About certain things, you have to try to make your peace with him. Tell him exactly how you feel, with no fighting, no yelling, and no punching!"

Cory nodded reluctantly. "He hurt me! He insulted me by . . ."

"Yes he did," interrupted The Phantom. "But Cory, Todd is your brother. He is the only brother you will ever have. He made a mistake and he has paid for that mistake in more ways than one. It's time to forgive."

"Phantom is quite right in what he is saying," put in Sean. "You forgave me. Surely you can forgive Todd."

Cory glared at Sean and then turned to The Phantom. "Right now my biggest concern is The Gunner. He will never forgive me for what we did."

The Phantom shook his head and sighed. "Cory, right now he cannot forgive himself for hitting you."

"What? That's crazy. It wasn't a real hit, anyway. He smacked my ass. I deserved it," railed Cory. "So did Todd." He reached back and rubbed his bottom. "Shit, Doc did more damage when he stuck that damned needle in my butt! I am going to have a bruise as big as your head!"

"Your tender, bruised little bottom aside, Cory, you have to understand The Gunner," said The Phantom. "He hit you because he lost his temper. To him, losing his temper is unforgivable. Hitting you . . . well, remember how he reacted when Nigel knocked me down - by accident? Hitting a cadet for any reason is a chargeable offence. No excuses. Hitting you in anger is assault."

"He did not assault me, Phantom!" Cory's snarl was accompanied by a dirty look. "He gave me a well-deserved smack on the butt, a child's spanking because I was acting like one! It did not hurt me, and it sure as hell is not going to kill me." He looked pointedly first at The Phantom, then at Sean. "The Gunner is entitled. He is our surrogate father."

"Who is evidently hurting over this whole sorry incident," interjected Sean in his dry, almost monotone voice.

"I'll make it up to him," replied Cory firmly. He looked at The Phantom. "And I will make it up with Todd, though the fuck doesn't deserve it."

"Todd is your brother. As much as you dislike the thought at the present moment, he will always be your brother. You must make up with him," said Sean almost pontifically. "You cannot lose a brother."

"Exactly what I told him, more or less." The Phantom gave Cory a quick kiss on his cheek. He saw the look Sean gave him and shrugged. "Sorry, Sean, but Cory and I have been lovers for years." Sean's jaw dropped and Cory giggled. Then Sean smiled and The Phantom noticed that he had a very nice, even smile.

Sean's eyes sparkled as he said, "You are both having a leg pull."

The Phantom nodded and laughed. Then he turned to Cory. "You also have to let a certain Chief Petty Officer know exactly what you feel about him. Or do not feel."

"I do have a name, Philip," complained Sean, who obviously had been eavesdropping for longer than had been apparent.

The Phantom was so surprised at Sean's use of his real name that he was, for a moment, at a loss for words. He soon recovered. "Sean, you have to make it clear to Cory exactly what it is you want from him."

"If he will let me." Sean gave Cory a hard look. "Philip is quite right, Cory, we need to talk."

"So talk," snapped Cory. "I have no secrets from Phantom."

"This is one time, I think, that you both should be one on one. But not here." The Phantom stood up and pulled Cory to his feet. "If you hurry you can catch the bus into town. Go have a slap-up dinner together." He wheeled and looked at Sean. "Go to Winston's, it's the best place in town and the second-deck terrace overlooks the harbour. Have a good meal, some wine . . ."

"Don't give him any ideas," snarled Cory. "If you ask me too much wine is what got me into this mess in the first place." He smiled coldly at Sean. "And in the second place, I'm flat broke. That rat's ass, Harry, borrowed every penny I had so he could pay off his fine to the Band."

"I have money, Cory," offered Sean. "I would dearly enjoy you being my guest to dinner."

"And you can keep it. If I went into town you would think it was a date. Which it would not be!" He glared at Sean, a malevolent look in his eyes. "If I can't pay I don't play!" Cory then flopped down on the sofa and crossed his arms stubbornly. "Nobody pays for me!" A sly look came into his blue eyes. "I can't go, anyway. I'm confined to Base."

The Phantom had an almost irresistible urge to belt Cory. "Not until tomorrow afternoon," he pointed out. "You're just trying to think of a way to get out of going ashore with Sean." He gave Cory a hard look. "Wait here!" He hurried to his locker, reached in and pulled out his wallet and within seconds was back in the lounge.

"What's that?" asked Cory, warily eyeing the small wad of notes The Phantom held out to him.

"Fifty bucks. Now you can go to lunch and pay for your share. And before you get all huffy it's a loan. I expect to be paid back." He pushed the money into Cory's hand. "Tell the Maitre d' that you know my father."

"What will that get us?" asked Sean.

"A good table and no nausea about having a drink. My father is Chief of Patrol of the Courtenay Police. The owner of the restaurant owes Pop a favour or two."

Cory snorted disdainfully. "That and two bucks might get us a beer."

"So much for repentance and contrition," said Sean with a grin.

"Up yours, Sean," growled Cory. He turned to the Phantom. "I'll take the loan and I'll go into town with Sean, but only because it's important to you, Phantom." He turned to Sean. "Just remember, this ain't a date. You said that you have money? Sean nodded. Cory straightened and glared at Sean. "Then it's Dutch treat all the way."

Sean took the path of least resistance. "As you wish, Cory."

Laughing quietly The Phantom left Cory and Sean and returned to the galley. He told Chef that he would be back later.

"Going to beard Todd next?" asked Chef.

The Phantom nodded. "Boot him in the ass is more like it," he replied with a hard smile.

The Phantom found Todd lying on his bunk staring vacantly into space. "Get up," he ordered and gave Todd's bare toes a twist. "Put some pants on."

"I have pants on, thank you very much," rejoined Todd. He raised his head and looked pointedly down at his boxer underpants. "I do not plan on going anywhere so I rather think that I am dressed as much as I need to be."

The Phantom made a snorting noise and walked to Todd's locker. He pulled the door open and found two towels, one of which he threw at Todd. "Get your ass out of that bunk, put on some shorts and do not argue." The Phantom glared at Todd, who decided that arguing with Phantom was not worth the hassle.

Todd silently got out his bed and stood up. He had no idea what Phantom was up to but decided to go along with whatever it was. "Can you at least hand me my shorts?" he asked as he pushed down his boxers.

Nodding, The Phantom found Todd's navy gym shorts and handed them to his friend. "Put on some sneakers. We are going for a walk and a swim."

"A swim? Phantom I really don't . . ." began Todd. Then he saw the look on The Phantom's face and shut up.

They left the Staff Barracks, towels draped around their necks, and Todd followed The Phantom as he set a leisurely pace, heading south, toward the far end of the Spit. The Phantom seemed to know exactly where he was going, following a path that Todd, who rarely went this far down the Spit, had never seen before. Curious, Todd asked, "Just where are we going?"

"I told you that I helped build this place," began The Phantom by way of explanation. "Before that, my brother and I, and a couple of friends, helped cut down the underbrush and such. I know every inch of this sand lot."

"One assumes that you will eventually inform one of your destination," said Todd, still miffed at being rudely hauled out of his pit, where he'd been having a very satisfactory snit.

"Knock it off, Todd," replied The Phantom with heavy emphasis. "You sound like Sean Anders and frankly I am not impressed with your Queen Mother Mary routine."

"I do not . . ." began Todd in protest. Again he was silenced with a look from his companion.

The Phantom led Todd down the beach and then turned into the small copse of trees that covered the extreme southern end of the Spit. Todd saw that they were following a barely discernible path through the trees and scrub and after a few minutes they came into a small clearing that gave onto a small, hidden, tidal pool. It was perhaps ten yards long by only six or seven yards across. The Phantom pointed to a small break in the trees that all but surrounded the pool. "I found this place about two years ago," he said. "It's under water when the tide is in. The water's about four feet deep." He kicked off his shoes and began to undo his shirt. "I used to go swimming here." He tossed his shirt above the high water mark and pushed down his trousers and underpants. "Mostly to get away from my brother." Naked, he turned and walked down the tiny, sloping stretch of sand. When the water was just below his knees The Phantom called over his shoulder, "Come on in, Todd, the water's fine."

Grumbling under his breath and slipping out of his sneakers, Todd divested himself of the only clothing - his shorts - that he was wearing and stepped into the pool. The salt water was cold, colder that the water where the cadets normally swam. Todd looked up and saw that the overhanging boughs of the trees blocked out much of the strong sun.

They swam in silence for perhaps ten minutes and then The Phantom went ashore. He spread the towel he had purloined from Todd's locker on the sand and sat down, waiting patiently for Todd to leave the water.

Todd, being his usual stubborn self, and bent on asserting his independence, swam for five minutes more, then joined The Phantom on the beach. He lay back on his other towel, his magnificent, golden body glistening with droplets of seawater. He was wondering what was going to happen next when he felt The Phantom's fingers caress his cheek. He turned his head and The Phantom leaned down and kissed him deeply.

Before he could question this open, hell, very open display of affection, Todd felt The Phantom's fingers on his lips. "I love four people, Todd," said The Phantom, his voice filled with deep emotion. "I love The Gunner, and one day I will be with him forever. I love Ray, because he is Ray. I love you. You were the first boy who ever made love to me, and I love Cory because he gave you to me, remember?"

Todd nodded, remembering the night he and Cory had spent in the dilapidated shack with The Phantom. He could feel The Phantom's emerald green eyes boring into him. "I remember," he whispered.

"That night was one of the most beautiful nights of my life Todd. You, and Cory, taught me how to love."

"Phantom . . ." Todd struggled into a sitting position.

The Phantom shook his head and cupped Todd's chin with his hand. "I love you, Todd. I always will, and because I love you, I want you to listen to me." Todd nodded his head slowly, his sparkling blue eyes clouding with tears. "I lost a brother, Todd, because I was stupid, and foolish, and hurt him deeply. Please, Todd, do not make the same mistake I made. Do not push Cory away." He dropped his hand and stared across the water of the tidal pool. "Don't make the same mistake I made, Todd."

Gently resting his hand on The Phantom's shoulder Todd said quietly, "I don't know what to do, Phantom. He will not let me apologise." He squeezed The Phantom's shoulder. "I love him, Phantom. I've always loved Cory above everybody else. I want him back, and I do not know what to do to get him back."

"You hurt him, Todd. You doubted him, you insulted him and you hurt him deeply."

"You don't have to tell me that, Phantom." Todd slammed his fist against the sand of the beach. "I was a total jerk, a gold-plated Grade A Prime Canadian asshole!"

"Yes, you were," agreed The Phantom evenly.

Todd looked at The Phantom and cringed inwardly. "Damn, those fucking green eyes of his!" he thought.

"And trying to beat the crap out of him certainly did not help you any," continued The Phantom. "Or having the Riot Act read over you or having a fire hose turned on you . . ."

Groaning, his face a mask of pain, Todd lay back down. "Please, Phantom, I know, I know . . ."

"I know you feel that you have to protect Cory," said The Phantom. He drew his hand across Todd's chest. "Cory knows that as well. Unfortunately, he does not agree with you."

"He's my brother, damn it," replied Todd with heat. "I love him and I will not allow him to be taken advantage of!" He sat up and picked up flat stone lying beside his towel and threw it into the tidal pool.

"Who took advantage of him?" asked The Phantom quietly.

Todd opened his mouth to speak, but could not find the words. "No . . . no one," he admitted presently.

"Cory went for a drink. He went for a drink with someone you do not care for, and you do not approve of. You had no basis for accusing Cory of doing anything wrong, just as you have no basis for assuming he would do something you perceive to be wrong with Sean Anders."

"You left out Phil Thornton," said Todd with heavy sarcasm.

"Phillip Thornton is beneath my notice," returned The Phantom, unperturbed. "He's a total dickhead." His features softened and he smiled wistfully. "Which is unfortunate. He has some very, um, positive attributes."

Todd's jaw dropped. He knew that The Phantom had been visiting cadets for two years, just as he knew that The Phantom had visited with Thumper and, he assumed, Ray. But this was the first time that his friend had come anywhere close to naming names. "You . . . you and . . ."

The Phantom shrugged. "Thornton is in the past," he said firmly. "Had you given the matter some thought you would have known that Cory has as low an opinion of Chief Thornton as you and I do. Thornton would never have been in Cory's future, even with his 'positive attributes'."

"You don't understand, Phantom!" protested Todd. "I was worried about him. Cory never said anything about going off to the Dockyard! He never said anything! When I got back to the Gunroom and I saw his bed was empty I didn't know what to think!"

"You managed to think that Cory had gone off with some big-dicked Chief, though," The Phantom pointed out.

Todd's face turned a deep red, and the rush of blood to his face caused the deep purple of the bruise under his right eye to turn almost black. "You've been talking to Cory!"

"Yes, I have," replied The Phantom, his voice calm. "What is particularly annoying to Cory is that you did go off with a big-dicked Chief!" he noted.

"Harry is not a . . ." Todd's jaws snapped closed.

"No? Well . . . hell and sheeit, yes he is." The Phantom smiled slowly. "He does own the Pride of the Fleet, after all."

"It's not the same thing, and you know it!" raged Todd. "Harry and I . . ."

"And Sean and Cory are not!"

"I know," admitted Todd.

"Todd, you made a complete ass of yourself."

"I know that as well," snapped Todd. "And I fail to see what business it is of yours, Phantom!"

The Phantom's bright, emerald eyes turned a dangerous, dark green. "You are very close to losing a brother and a lover. Would you care to try for two?"

Todd shrank back. "No, please Phantom, don't . . ."

"Listen to me, Todd." The Phantom reached out and took Todd's hand. "I did a stupid, stupid thing a long time ago. It cost me the only brother I will ever have. Early this morning you did a stupid thing, and you are very close to losing Cory. I am not your brother in the flesh but I am your brother, and Cory's. As your brother I am telling you to back off, to let Cory make his own decisions, to choose his own friends."

"But I've looked out for him for all his life," whispered Todd, his eyes full of pain. "All his life!"

"And now it is time for you to let him look out for himself," replied The Phantom sincerely. "Sean made a mistake. Cory has forgiven him that mistake. Why can't you?"

Todd looked confused and stunned. "I . . . I . . ." he began, not really knowing what to say. "I don't know," he admitted.

"You're a snob, Todd," said The Phantom, giving his friend a withering look.

"What? Where the hell did you . . . how do you figure that?"

"Sean is not Nathan. Sean fell out of the ugly tree and hit a few branches on the way down. He is no looker, and he doesn't appeal to you at all." The Phantom smiled coldly. "You use the excuse that he hurt Cory, but deep down inside you know and I know that Sean doesn't appeal to you."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard you mutter," growled Todd through clenched teeth.

"I'm not muttering," replied The Phantom, not at all moved by Todd's growing anger. "I'm telling you to your face. You pushed Nathan on Cory because Nathan is handsome beyond belief. He appeals to you. You did not know a thing about him, what he was like, what he thought, how he acted. Still, you pushed Nathan on Cory."

Todd could not deny The Phantom's words. He had pushed Nathan on his brother. "You judged Nathan, not on the content of his character, but on his looks," The Phantom went on cruelly. "You are judging Sean, not on the content of his character, but on his looks. You do not know the type of person he is. You don't know anything about Sean at all and yet you are judging him. Nathan treated Cory, the first time that they were together, as if he were some bitch he was fucking in the middle of the road. You overlooked that little detail, Todd, because you decided it was a one-off and that Nathan would learn respect. Sean flashed his parts, covered, as I understand it, at Cory. That you remember and that you will not forgive."

"I will not forgive because afterward he treated my brother like dirt!" Todd stood up and waved his finger at The Phantom. "You do not know what you are talking about, Phantom."

"Ah, but I do," replied The Phantom, stifling Todd's tirade. "Cory told me the whole story, the whole sordid little tale. He bothered to listen to Sean, to learn the reason behind Sean's treatment of him. You did not and that makes you judgmental and closed-minded." He stood up and brushed a few grains of beach sand from his bare behind. "Sean is gay, Todd. He is also deathly afraid that someone will find out that he is gay." A sad, knowing look came over The Phantom's face. "Sean has career goals and being gay does not factor into them. He took the coward's way out and avoided Cory because he was afraid." His green eyes darkened. "He acts the way he does because he is afraid, Todd."

"And so are you!" replied Todd, his tone scathing. "You walk around here like some straight arrow, macho jock, pretending to be something you are not! You are as gay as I am, yet you will not admit it! You are having a hot and heavy affair with The Gunner, yet you sneak around in the shadows. You are just as afraid as Sean is! You are just as big a coward as he is!"

The Phantom turned and saw Todd, red-faced, his hands forming tight fists, glaring at him. He nodded haltingly, then bent down and began to gather up his clothing. "Yes, Todd, I am." The Phantom began dressing, first stepping into his boxers and then pulling on his T-shirt. "I'm afraid for The Gunner because if what he is gets out, his career is ruined. I am afraid for me because, like Sean, I have plans for my life."

Todd realized what he had said, and how he had said it. A wave of remorse swept over him. "Phantom . . ."

"No, Todd. You were right. I am a coward." He smiled wanly. "One of the reasons I loved you, and respected you, was that neither you nor Cory allowed your being gay to stand in the way of what you wanted to do, or what you want to be." He stepped into his trousers, zipped up, grabbed his shoes and began to walk away. He stopped and turned. "I apologise, Todd, for everything. I apologise for my cowardice, and for my love for The Gunner. I apologise for my love for you and Cory. I am truly sorry for interfering in what is, at the end of the day, your personal business." As he returned to the path he heard Todd's heart-rending scream.

"PHANTOM!"

Todd rushed forward and spun The Phantom around. His lips found The Phantom's and his arms enveloped the boy's body. "Don't, please . . . Phantom don't say things like that," he whispered harshly. "You are not a coward, you are not! Please, Phantom, stay."

"Todd, I . . . we . . ." began The Phantom. He could feel Todd's fingers as he slowly pushed his T-shirt up and over his head. "Todd, we can't . . ."

Todd raised his tear-stained face. "Please, Phantom?"

Todd slowly pushed down The Phantom's trousers and underpants, his lips brushing the soft skin of The Phantom's thighs, his tongue flicking gently across the spongy head of The Phantom's hardening penis. Without thinking The Phantom raised first his right leg, then his left, stepping out of his rumpled clothing, and kicking it aside.

Todd's lips and tongue retraced their journey up The Phantom's naked body. He held The Phantom close, grinding his crotch into The Phantom's, kissing and licking his neck, the shallow valley of his shoulders, all the while murmuring over and over, "Please, Phantom . . . forgive me." The Phantom could feel Todd's hot breath as Todd's lips found his nipples. "You . . . please . . . I'm sorry," moaned Todd as his tongue filled the small hollow of The Phantom's navel. He continued to worship The Phantom's shuddering body, all the while murmuring his continued prayer, begging forgiveness. Soon his warm, wet tongue was licking at the pale, almost indiscernible ring a third of the way down The Phantom's achingly beautiful penis. Then his mouth engulfed the sweet, curving head of The Phantom's erection. The Phantom's knees buckled as Todd laved and sucked small, short sucks on his thickened, spasming hardon. Todd's tongue found the secret spot, the small knot of scar tissue just where The Phantom's shaft joined his curving, classically shaped helmet. The Phantom sank slowly back onto the warm sand as Todd sucked and licked, his mouth sending waves of intense pleasure rolling through his body. The Phantom could feel the massive pressure building in his groin, spreading a forest fire of intense heat and passion burning through him. He began to growl and moan, not hearing Todd's strangled groans, not feeling the wet tears of remorse that flowed from Todd's eyes.

A warning cry rose from The Phantom's throat, "Todd . . ." The Phantom's body stiffened, his climax overwhelming his senses as his penis pulsed and filled Todd's suctioning mouth with his thick, sweet, precious ambrosia.

Todd, crying and moaning, sucked and sucked, refusing to let go until The Phantom was drained completely. The Phantom, overcome with the intensity of what Todd had done to him, for a moment lost consciousness, lost all sense of reason. He was vaguely aware of Todd pulling himself atop his body, his hard, hot cock rubbing and grinding against the flushed and torrid flesh of The Phantom's still-hard dick.

New sensations screamed through The Phantom as Todd thrust long, slow thrusts along and across his erection, against his balls, and through his thick patch of pubic hair. Overcome and overwhelmed The Phantom wrapped his legs around Todd's thrusting backside, and his arms around Todd's heaving back. He matched Todd thrust for thrust and as they approached their explosions their lips met.

Todd continued to mutter, "Please . . . Phantom . . . don't give up on me . . ." He growled and grimaced as his testicles shrank upward into his body. "Phantom . . ." Todd moaned a long, growling moan as his back arched. Todd threw his head back and thrust savagely against The Phantom's stomach. He shuddered uncontrollably and roared in ecstasy as stream after stream of his semen flew from his spasming penis, smashing against The Phantom's chest and stomach.

It was too much for The Phantom. Within seconds he had another orgasm and he growled low, inarticulate sounds into the still, warm air of the private cove. Both boys thrust and rubbed and finally, Todd collapsed, his weight heavy on The Phantom's body. His hips moved in short, sharp, thrusting movements until finally he was still.

Afterward, they lay in each other's arms; their flushed bodies slick with sweat and sticky with their mingled ejaculates. Todd slowly stroked The Phantom's cheek, smiling a warm, sweet smile. "Forgive me?"

"For what? The sex? For loving me?" murmured The Phantom in reply.

Todd closed his eyes and shook his head. "For everything."

"There's nothing to forgive, Todd. I told you. I love you. I have loved you from the moment I set eyes on you last year. I do not regret what we did."

Todd rubbed his face against The Phantom's chest. "I have loved you from the moment we first were together that night . . ." he raised his head. "That night in the shack, when we followed you from the Gunroom."

"Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson," said The Phantom with a low chuckle as his hand traced lazy circles on Todd's warm, sweat-rimed back. "You caught me jerking off. I almost died of a heart attack!"

"I'm glad you didn't," replied Todd with deep emotion. "I wanted you after that night. I wanted you today, here, now." He kissed The Phantom deeply and with as much passion as he could give. "You're not like the others, Phantom," he said when they parted. "You're not just another hard dick."

"Cory feels that way, Todd," said The Phantom gently. "I feel that way." He chuckled. "Not that I've had all that many hard dicks."

"I have," admitted Todd sadly. "Too many."

"That night you and Cory followed me, I had just blown Tyler and Val. You knew that, didn't you?" asked The Phantom as he ran his fingers through Todd's short, blond hair.

"We knew it. Tyler woke Cory up . . ." Todd laughed a low, guttural, dirty laugh. "We talked about that for days."

"I jerked off to it," returned The Phantom with a laugh. "In many ways I regret what I did with the other guys. After I had been with you and Cory my remorse grew and I felt ashamed for what I had done."

"Phantom, you gave them pleasure. You gave them what they wanted." Todd snorted. "Half the guys I know dream about getting a blow job." He snuggled closer to The Phantom. "Do you remember the night you blew Thumper?"

The Phantom choked a bit. "Hell and sheeit, it was like Vesuvius blowing off."

"Fuckin' aye!" replied Todd, laughing. "But you know, to this day Thumper has never mentioned that night. He has never complained, not to the rest of the guys, not to The Gunner."

"Maybe he thought it was a vivid wet dream," offered The Phantom dryly.

Todd rolled his eyes. "Bullshit. He knew exactly what was happening to him and he wanted it to happen. His dick was hard and all he could think about was getting his nut off. All of them think that way."

"I don't!" The Phantom looked deep into Todd's sparkling, blue eyes. "When I told you that I loved you, I meant it. I've told The Gunner exactly how I feel about you, and Cory, and yes, Ray. He knows how I feel and he knows that from time to time I am going to want to be with you, or Cory, or Ray."

"He does?" Todd's eyes widened. The Gunner must love Phantom very much to "understand" the Phantom's feelings for the other boys.

"He does," confirmed The Phantom. "He knows about me, about what I did last year, and this summer. I've never lied to him and I do not intend to start by hiding my feelings for you. You are not some piece of ass, Todd. You are . . . you were the first boy I ever slept with, fully slept with, and I will never forget what we did, and how I felt afterward. You were, and are, my dream. I cannot, and will not even try to explain that, explain how I feel about you. I only know that The Gunner, you, Cory and Ray . . ." he looked pointedly at Todd. "Yes, Ray . . . you are all a part of me, the essential me. You will always be a part if my life. You are in me, Todd, you always will be."

Todd considered The Phantom's words and nodded slowly. "In a way . . . no, in every way I feel the same about you and Cory. It's as if there is a small part of me that is not . . . complete? Yes, complete I think is the word I want. Without Cory, and without you, my life is just not complete. I need both of you to fill that void in me. Can you understand that?"

"Yes, I think so. I feel the same way, exactly the same, about Ray. Don't get me wrong, Todd, The Gunner is the be all and end all of my life but well, Ray, and you and Cory, have to be a part of my life. The Gunner knows how I feel and he understands because he feels the same about a certain . . . sailor."

"He does?" asked Todd, surprised.

"Yes, there is a boy he knew once," replied The Phantom, nodding. "He fell in love with him in CORNWALLIS. They never did anything, and in fact the jerk beat The Gunner up when he told him how he felt."

"And The Gunner still . . .?"

"Still," confirmed The Phantom with a warm smile. "The Gunner cannot explain why he feels the way he feels, but I know that there will always be a small bit of The Gunner that wants, needs, that boy." The Phantom shrugged phlegmatically. "He keeps a picture of the guy, all ratty and torn, in his wallet. He looks at it from time to time." He put his arm around Todd's shoulder. "So, you see, I understand how you feel, and how The Gunner feels."

Todd laughed sadly. "The sad thing, though, Phantom, is that I really do not feel that way about Harry."

"You don't?"

"No. Oh, I love him. I truly love him. But not the way I should. I adore him, but I know that sooner or later what we have will be over. When it is over, it's over because Harry has this void in his life."

"Stefan?" asked The Phantom, although he already knew the answer to his question.

Todd nodded. "Stefan. He is the part of Harry that is not complete. When Stefan comes back into Harry's life, Harry will be complete. I know that, just as he knows that there is someone very special to me that I need in my life." He smiled ruefully. "He doesn't know who that special someone is." He smiled and kissed The Phantom tenderly. "I also told Harry that you and I would not be together again. At the time I believed it."

"Todd, whenever you need me . . ." replied The Phantom.

They lay together in each other's arms, saying nothing, enjoying the warmth of each other's body. All too soon Todd left The Phantom's embrace and stood up. He stared into the waters of the tidal pool, and then picked up a small stone. He sent it skimming across the calm waters. "I was wrong about Nathan. I was wrong when I accused Cory of going off with someone. I was wrong about you, about what I said to you."

The Phantom rose slowly and went to Todd. He held him close. "You spoke the truth, Todd. In many ways I am a coward." He pulled away a bit and returned Todd's smile. "I hide in the shadows, afraid of what others will think of me if I tell them that I am gay. I live in fear, just like so many other gay boys." "Don't, Phantom," pleaded Todd. "I understand. I really do. I know what people can be like, how many Paul Greenes there are out there. I live the life, remember? I am the school faggot, the Corps bone blower . . ."

The Phantom's kiss silenced Todd. "You are not a faggot, or a bone blower. You are my friend, my lover, and someone I care so very much for," said The Phantom with feeling. "When we were in Victoria I made a vow to fight for us, US! For all the guys like us who were too afraid to open their mouths and be who they are. On Friday morning I plan to renew that vow."

Todd's eyes opened wide. "You're not going to do anything foolish again, are you Phantom?"

The Phantom laughed and shook his head. "I'm not going to announce it over the PA, if that's what you mean." He sat and then ran his hand along Todd's thigh. "On Friday I am going to tell that I am gay, in front of witnesses." He rolled away and then sat up. "I think it's long since overdue."

Todd propped himself on one elbow and regarded The Phantom. "Why would you want to do that, Phantom? You don't have to tell anybody anything. Nobody knows about you, or The Gunner, except Cory and me, and we would never say a word to anybody."

"Did you see the ring that the Gunner was wearing?" asked The Phantom abruptly. "And Doc?"

Todd nodded. "And Chef." He shrugged. "I've seen one like them before. My father wears one."

"Your father?" asked The Phantom, his face a mask of surprise. "But . . ."

"But what?" asked Todd. He lay back on his towel. "All it means is that they belong to some lodge or other."

It was all The Phantom could do to keep from bursting out laughing. "It means a whole lot more than you think, Todd." He shook his head and grinned. "The Elks, they most definitely are not!"

"That's as may be, Phantom," replied Todd. "All I know is that Papa wears the ring and is a member. He hasn't been too active though since he was appointed to the Supreme Court. I don't know why."

"Keeping a low profile," thought The Phantom. "It just isn't done to have a member of the Supreme Court of Canada in an organization championing gays and rights for gays." He hunkered down beside Todd and gave him a poke. "Todd, I think you had better sit down and listen to what I have to tell you."

Todd opened his eyes and saw the serious look on The Phantom's face. He sat down slowly. "Right. I am sitting down."

"Todd, you saw the rings and you have no idea what they mean?"

Todd shook his head. He looked pensive for a moment and then spoke. "Well, no, not really. Papa has always been very discrete about his work, and he belongs to so many organizations and clubs and they all have some sort of a badge or a symbol to wear . . ." He scratched his chin, trying to remember " . . . I never really paid that much attention. I remember Mummy admiring the ring and telling Papa how proud she was of him for doing what was right, but I never knew anything about what Papa was up to and he always treated everything he did with confidentiality and never talked about the . . . whatever it's called. I can tell you that some very important people wear rings like Papa's. Papa used to meet with some of the members all the time, doing legal work and . . ." He slapped his forehead.

"What?"

Todd looked evenly at The Phantom. "There's a man in Vancouver. He is very, very rich and very, very important. He is supposed to be the Chinese Godfather, or something. I don't believe it, because I've met him and he is very nice. He has a ring just like Papa's." He made a sour face. "But then, so does that rat bag Major who works for him!"

"What Major?" The Phantom, while intrigued, was confused.

Todd decided to begin at the beginning. "My mother grows roses. She is a great friend with a lady named Mary Putnam Randolph, who also grows roses. Mrs. Randolph introduced Mummy to a man named Michael Chan. He has this huge house right at the edge of British Properties."

"Where you live," interrupted The Phantom.

Todd nodded. "As I said, he has this huge house, and the grounds are out of this world. He grows roses as well so Mama and he have tea every so often and talk about roses. He's won a ton of awards for his flowers."

"What has he got to do with your father, and the rings?"

"He wears one, Phantom. Cory and I have been to his house several times. Mister Michael is very nice. Not like Major Meinertzhagen."

"Todd, what the hell are you going on about?"

"Just listen, and I will tell you." Todd sat up, plucked a strand of sea grass, and began to chew it. "I never made the connection before, with Papa and with Mister Michael. To be honest, I think subconsciously I did not want to make the connection."

"Why, is this Mister Michael a murderer or something?" asked The Phantom in complete innocence.

"According to the Vancouver Police Department, yes," replied Todd without emphasis. "According to my father, he is just a Chinese businessman. I suspect the truth lies somewhere in between."

"And he belongs to the . . . to the same organization that your father belongs to, and The Gunner?"

"I would think he must," replied Todd. "They all wear the same ring."

The Phantom began thinking about what The Gunner had told him about the Conclave. The small bits and snippets of information were beginning to come together. "Did your father happen to mention anything about a Conclave, or a meeting about a week ago?"

"No," replied Todd with a shake of his head. "I remember something about a meeting . . . a letter! I saw a letter on Papa's desk. It was written in Latin." He made a face. "Everything about the . . . whatever . . . is written in Latin."

"What else do you remember?"

"Well, I remember Papa and some men meeting at the house, around Easter. My Uncle Louis was there. He's a forensic accountant so I know that the meeting had something to do with money. Mister Michael was there. He seemed very worried and the one time Cory and I did manage to eavesdrop we heard them talking about how much money was missing and that there would have to be an investigation." He frowned, furrowing his brows. "The Major was there as well. He saw Cory and me snooping and shooed us away." He laughed quietly. "He has never forgiven us for putting Ex-Lax in his drink!"

The Phantom's jaw dropped. He knew what the laxative was. "You put Ex-Lax in the man's drink?"

"We did, indeed," replied Todd with a laugh. "The Major works for Mister Michael. I don't know exactly what he does, but he is very important. He is also one of those snooty Englishmen who always talk as if they are constipated and think that children should be kept out of sight or in school until they're 30!"

"So you and Cory decided to cure his constipation by putting Ex-lax in his booze!" The Phantom collapsed in laughter.

Todd gave his friend a sour look and shrugged. "Put him down for a week. Mister Michael thought it was ever so funny. Papa did not! He turned us over his knee and spanked us. Bare bum!"

The Phantom, recovered, shook his head and contained himself. "I can see the humour in what you did. Still, you could have killed the poor man."

"Not likely," replied Todd with snort. "To get rid of that old poop they would have to burn the world down!" Todd shook his head. "The good Major is ex-Royal Army. SAS, I think. He's as hard as nails and I would not want to cross him." He thought a moment. "Now that I think about it, though, just about everybody who works for Mister Michael is ex-something. Except for the outside security people. They are all Chinese. The men who work inside are all Caucasian and they are all former Royal Army or Royal something. There is even a former Royal Marine Commando. His name is Laurence and he is really a nice guy. He is also very good looking, but too old for me, if you know what I mean and . . . Phantom, what's the matter, you look like you've seen a ghost!"

"I know about a Laurence?" The Phantom said slowly. He decided to play dumb. "I wonder if he's the same guy."

"If he is one of the footmen at Mister Michael's house, then he's the same guy." A faraway look came into Todd's eyes. "He is very nice and very good-looking. He told us, Cory and me, that he had been in the Royal Marines, No. 6 Commando, whatever that means. The other footman, Noel, he was also in the Royal Marines, but not the SBS, like Laurence was, which is the Small Boat Service."

The Gunner had not mentioned that minor point. The Phantom had read about the SBS. "Tough, is he?"

"Oh yeah," breathed Todd. "According to Papa if you want someone to infiltrate and cause havoc, you call in the Booties. He says that the Royal Marine Commandos are the best of the best, and trust me, Phantom, coming from my father, who is ex-RCN, that is very high praise, indeed!"

The Phantom recognized the look in Todd's eyes and the timbre of his voice. He decided to get Todd back on track. "Todd, I am going to ask you a question and please, do not take it the wrong way, but is Mister Michael, or your Dad, um, gay?"

Todd almost keeled over. "Papa? Are you crazy? Mister Michael?" He saw that The Phantom was very serious. "If Papa is gay it would be a very big surprise to my mother. As for Mister Michael . . ." he shrugged. "He's never given me any reason to think it. He has a cousin, Joel, who's gay." He gave The Phantom a dark look. "Why would you even ask a question like that?"

"On Friday I am going to ask The Gunner to formally take me under his protection, Todd," replied The Phantom. He looked at Todd and shrugged. "What that means is that I will become a Candidate Knight in something called the Ancient and Noble Order of Saint John of the Cross of Acre. Next year, when I am of age, I will become a Professed Knight and I will wear the ring."

"A what knight of what?" Todd asked.

The Phantom decided to tell Todd what Chef had told him. "The Order was founded in 1105 by three knights who were Crusaders. During the siege of Acre they found a small chapel dedicated to Saint John, the youngest disciple. In the chapel was a box and in the box was a piece of the True Cross."

"Give me a break, Phantom," scoffed Todd. "The True Cross?"

"I know, it's hard to believe, now," replied The Phantom. He put his arms around Todd and continued. "When The Gunner first told me about the Cross I was like you." He grinned at the memory of that encounter. "I was a right little prick. We had our first argument."

"You kissed and made up," replied Todd with a salacious grin.

The Phantom ignored him. "Yes, but only after I met the Proctor."

"The who?"

"He's a knight whose job it is to go around and explain to candidates, like me, what the Order is all about. He explained to me that not everybody believes in the True Cross. What matters is that some do, and that the piece of wood is a symbol, a small segment of history and tradition. For 800 years and more men have believed in that piece of wood. You and I, we don't have to believe. All we have to do is respect the beliefs of others."

"All right, I'll buy that," replied Todd. "You've met the Proctor. Now what?"

"Well, he told me that the Order is dedicated to helping gays. Most of the members, the knights, are gay, but there are some men who are real friends, but not gay."

"Like my Papa?" asked Todd, who did not believe for a moment that his father was gay.

The Phantom nodded. "He would be a Knight of Honour. You don't have to be gay to be a member of the Order. All you have to believe in is that gays are entitled to equal rights under the law, and be willing to fight for it." He released Todd, stood up and held out his hand. "We really should clean up."

Todd nodded. "Making love can be so messy," he said theatrically. "One gets sooo sweaty!" He grasped The Phantom's hand and together they waded into the waters of the tidal pool. "What I do not understand is why I've never heard of this Order." He began to splash about, then sank back and floated in the cold saltwater.

"The Order had to keep a low profile, Todd. You know why."

Todd sighed. "All too well, Phantom, all too well."

"The Order is dedicated to helping gays in trouble, in trying to fight the legal system, to get the laws condemning us off the books." The Phantom looked at Todd. "As the Proctor said, we have to do it, because nobody else will. The Government will not. The general public despises people like us. We have to be like the knights of old. We have to fight our own battles."

"Why?" asked Todd. "I know that life is not all that great, but at least we can exist. Who cares what the government thinks, or what the general public thinks? Fuck 'em all, is my motto."

Before The Phantom could reply to Todd's remark they heard a loud chattering of high-pitched voices and suddenly, standing on the small beach were three boys, staring at them and giggling. The Phantom looked at Joey and Randy and smiled. Then his smile faded. Behind the Brats stood Simon Keppel.

"See, I told you we'd find them," Joey said to Randy with a smirk. He waved at The Phantom and Todd as they waded out of the water. "Hi, Phantom. Hi, Chief Arundel."

Randy whistled. "Nice dick, Chiefie." Behind him Simon giggled nervously.

The Phantom, who did not know which Chief's dick Randy was referring to, snatched up his towel and tied it around his waist. "How the hell did you guys find us?" He sat down and motioned for Todd, who had also tied his towel around his waist, to join him.

Randy and Joey quickly followed suit, sitting down beside the two older boys. Simon, smiling shyly, and before lowering himself to sit beside The Phantom, asked in a low, shy voice, "Is it all right if I sit here, Chief Lascelles?" His eyes were lowered and he was blushing furiously.

"Sure, Simon," replied The Phantom. He gave Randy and Joey a hard look. "I thought you two were on duty." He gave Simon a slight nudge. "And why aren't you off to town with the rest of the Sea Puppies, bent on rapine and looting?"

Simon, who wasn't at all sure what rapine was, shrugged. "I wanted to be alone. It gets pretty wearing living with the same 38 guys all the time." He sighed. "Besides, I didn't have any money."

"And Chef told us to get lost!" put in Randy.

Joey rolled his eyes. "Randy, he did not! He told us to go away and play with each other."

The Phantom suppressed a giggle. "He did?"

Joey shook his head. "Not really. We were in the galley, working, and The Gunner came in. Him and Chef started to talk about some letter that Chef got from a queen . . ."

Randy slapped the back of Joey's head. "Not a queen, dork!" He looked at the two Chiefs. "Chef got a letter from The Queen."

"He did?" asked Todd. The two older boys looked at each other, both wondering what Chef was up to now.

"Well, it was really from somebody called Master Household," supplied Joey.

"I think you mean Master of the Household," interjected Todd. "He's in charge of the service staff and does all the hiring."

"Whatever," replied Randy, not impressed. "The letter was from Buckingham Palace, so it's the same thing."

"Is not," snapped Joey.

"Is too!" replied Randy.

"Stop!" yelled The Phantom. "Now, slowly, tell me what this letter, from whomever, was about."

Randy stuck his tongue out at Joey and returned to being designated spokesman. "We're not sure. We couldn't hear all that much. The Gunner told Chef that he would be a fool to turn it down, whatever it is, and Chef said that he had responsibilities and besides, he didn't want to be out of the country for two years in case Ray needed him. What does Ray have to do with Chef, Phantom?"

"They're just good friends," replied The Phantom hurriedly, not wanting either of the two Brats to know how Chef felt about Ray.

"Then Chef saw us listening and said to get lost, 'cause we were too nosy for our own good," put in Joey.

"But the Gunner told Chef to calm down and gave us a fiver and told us to go to the canteen for some pop. So we did," Joey looked longingly at the water. "Can we go for a swim?"

"In a minute. You still haven't explained how you found us," said The Phantom.

"It was easy." Joey stood up and began to push down his swimming shorts. "We went to the canteen, but it was closed. Everybody's in town, you know." Without waiting for reply he stepped out of his shorts and tossed them to one side. He stood there, naked, a magnificent boy, in all his glory. He absently scratched his behind. "So, then we went to the swimming beach."

"But nobody was there, so we left," put in Randy. He stripped off his shorts and copied Joey by scratching his butt. "We saw Cory, I mean Chief Arundel and he said that maybe you'd gone to the Gunroom."

"Where did you see him?" asked Todd, immediately suspicious.

"Oh, he was on his way to the Dockyard with Chief Anders," said Joey easily. "They were going into town, I think, and Chief Anders wanted to change." He turned to Randy. "Come on, let's go swimming."

The Phantom was about to protest but gave it up as the two boys ran into the water. Within minutes they were hooting and splashing, enjoying themselves. He felt a soft touch on his arm and turned to see Simon looking at him with dark, serious eyes. "It's my fault, Chief Lascelles," he all but whispered.

"Why is that, Simon?" The Phantom felt slightly uneasy. Simon had beautiful eyes, and he knew what the boy felt for him.

"I was at tanning stations, outside my barracks, when Randy and Joey came along. They asked me if I'd seen you and I told them that, yes, I had. I told them that I'd seen you go to the Gunroom, and then that you and Chief Arundel left there and I saw you both walking toward the other end of the camp and . . ."

"And decided to follow us and see what deviltry you could get into!" Todd was interested in what The Phantom had been telling him about the Order and did not really appreciate having two Brats and one Sea Puppy cluttering up the beach.

The Phantom ignored Todd's outburst and looked at Simon. "It's all right, Simon."

Simon visibly relaxed. "We didn't mean to snoop, honest. After we got our swim stuff it took us a while to find the path."

"Thank God," muttered Todd under his breath.

"Then we heard you talking and . . ." Simon's intuition told him that he had interrupted something very special between the two Chiefs. "Maybe we'd better go."

The Phantom patted Simon's back. "Why? You're here now. Why don't you go for a swim? The water's very nice."

Simon blushed and again lowered his eyes. "Well, yeah, maybe . . ."

The Phantom leaned down and whispered, "You can keep your suit on, Simon. Or just wear your underpants, if you are wearing any."

Simon blushed a deeper red. Then he leaned around The Phantom and looked at Todd, who grinned and waved. Todd had a fairly good idea of what was bothering Simon so he threw the towel aside and stood up. "I'm going for a swim," he announced and strode into the water.

Simon, intrigued, watched Todd go into the water. He felt a stirring in his crotch and slowly brought his hands around to cover his growing boner.

The Phantom saw Simon's hands move and smiled slowly. "It's all right, Simon, to look." He graciously did not mention the small lump in Simon's shorts. Simon looked at The Phantom and turned his head away, a small tear coursing down his cheek. The Phantom gently brought his head around and looked into his sad face. "Simon, it's all right," he said gently.

Simon swallowed and sniffed. "Please, Chief, don't hate me."

"Now then, why would I want to do that? Whatever have you done to make me hate you?"

Simon looked apprehensively at Todd, who was fending off his threatened molestation, then at Joey and Randy, who were laughing and doing the damnedest to repeat their performance in the Victoria motel pool. "I'm like them," he whispered. He pointed imperceptibly with his chin at Joey. "I like . . . boys." He hung his head and his body shook with silent sobs.

The Phantom put his arm around Simon and hugged him. "I do not hate Joey or Randy, so why would I hate you. And how do you know that you are like Randy and Joey?"

"I know," replied Simon firmly. "Grownups don't think that little kids can have feelings like we do, but we do, Chief. I lie in my bunk in the morning and I watch the other guys when they get up and I see their boners and I think, gee, would I love to feel, to . . . taste one of them. At night, in bed, I think about all the guys when they're undressing and I see their dicks and I want to, you know, play with them. Sometimes, all the time, when I . . ." He grinned sheepishly. "I think about certain boys when I . . ."

The Phantom smiled gently. So, Simon was masturbating, dreaming about other boys. Then he asked what Simon thought by asking a metaphorical question. "Simon, how old are you . . . 13? Maybe a little older?"

"I'll be 14 in October," supplied Simon. "On Trafalgar Day, the 22nd." The Phantom thought a moment. "Have you ever thought that . . . you do take health classes in school?"

Simon nodded. "Yes, and I know you're going to tell me that I'm just going through a phase."

"No, I'm not. What I am going to tell you is that you are still going through puberty. It's a very confusing time for boys. You have all these confused feelings about sex, about girls, about boys."

"Nooo," drawled Simon. "I've always wanted to be with a boy. I don't think about girls at all."

"Never?"

"Never," confirmed Simon. "The other guys, Evan and Bobby, they're always talking about girls, and you should hear them if there's a really pretty girl in the movies we see, or if she flashes a bit of titty."

The Phantom tried hard not to giggle. "Well, to most boys a titty, as you call it, is a turn on."

Simon made a face. "Not me. I just don't get excited the way they do. They lie in bed and they rub themselves talking about the girl and making crude jokes about how they would like to stick their dicks in her mouth . . . and other stuff."

"And what do you think about, then?"

Once again Simon looked apprehensively at the other boys cavorting in the tidal pool. It was obvious that he did not want to be overheard. "I think about them sticking their dicks in my mouth," he said softly. "Or, some times, I think about me rubbing their dicks for them."

"Would it be so bad if you were . . . gay?"

Simon looked horrified. "Of course it would, Chief! At school the other boys would make fun of me, call me names, and make jokes about me, if they knew I was gay. They might even try to beat me up!" He shook his head and looked knowingly at The Phantom. "If Chief Anders ever found out that I was gay, he'd . . . He'd throw me out of the Corps!"

"What has he got to do with it?"

"He's the Chief of my Corps, back home in Burnaby. He's all Gate and Gaiters and he'd never allow me to stay."

"And a lot you know about your Chief," thought The Phantom. "Well, Simon, let's look at it objectively. If you are gay then . . ."

"I am!" interrupted Simon forcefully.

"All right, you are gay. First of all you have to understand that you cannot help being gay. I do not pretend to know everything about how or why a boy is born gay, I only know he is. You have to accept it, and try to make the best of it. You are who you are, Simon, and nothing you do will ever change it."

"I don't want to be . . . gay," replied Simon. "I want to be normal."

The Phantom groaned and shook his head. "Simon, you want to be what other people want you to be. You think that being normal is liking girls. Have you never thought that liking boys is also normal?"

"But, Chief, everybody says it's not. My parents, my teachers, everybody."

"First of all, please, Simon, call me Phantom. I get nervous when people call me Chief." He grinned. "Or Chiefie."

Simon giggled and nodded. "Okay . . . Phantom."

"Good. Now then," The Phantom gestured toward Todd, Randy and Joey. "Forget for a moment that Todd is older than Randy and Joey, and tell me, Simon, what is so different about them?"

Simon looked as Todd ducked Randy under the water. "Well, nothing really. They have different coloured hair. And Todd's dick is bigger, and has a lot more hair around it but . . . there's really not all that much different."

"Good. Now, think on. If you did not know that all three are gay, would you call them normal?"

Simon considered this a moment. "Well, yes, I suppose I would."

"Why?" asked The Phantom softly.

"They do things I do. They play sports, and they go to school and . . . Well they just do things like normal guys."

"Exactly. They've learned to accept that they are gay, and they live with it. They do not let it rule their lives. They are not ashamed of being what they are, and neither should you be. And if you look at it another way, being gay is not the end of the world. A lot worse things could happen to you. If being gay is the worst that ever happens to you count yourself lucky."

"It's easy for you to talk, Phantom. You're not gay. You can't know what it's like being me, feeling the way I feel," returned Simon.

The Phantom realized that the moment of truth had arrived. Simon was a gay boy looking for truth and encouragement. How could he help Simon, encourage him, if he lied to the boy? And if he lied now, what would happen when Simon found out the truth? How much damage would the truth, hidden now and revealed later, cause to Simon's self-esteem. He coughed and ducked his head. "Simon, maybe I do know how you feel."

Simon's eyes widened. "You can't be . . . you aren't . . ."

"Simon, I knew when I was nine or ten years old what I was. For a long time I hid my true self. I pretended to be something I wasn't. Then, I met someone and I had to make a decision. To go on pretending, or to let him love me."

"And you let him love you?" Simon was flabbergasted, but feeling flattered. Wow, Phantom was just like he was!

"Yes, Simon, I did. I do not for a minute regret that decision." His shoulders sagged and he continued. "I also went right on pretending to everybody else that I wasn't gay. When we were in Victoria I vowed that if anyone asked me, that I would tell him the truth. You didn't come right out and ask, but you did think that I didn't know how you felt. Well, Simon me lad, I do know." He looked at Simon and smiled. "So, the moment of truth. I am gay, Simon. Just like you are, just like Todd, and Randy and Joey. You are not alone, Simon, and you never will be."

Simon gulped and nodded. "I love you." He started blushing again. "I'm sorry, Phantom, I shouldn't have said that."

"Why? It's the truth, isn't it?"

"Yes," came the whispered reply.

The Phantom gathered the boy into his arms and held him. "Listen to me, Simon. Being in love with me is very . . . to me, flattering. I do not know you very well, so I cannot love you back. I can, and do, like you very much, as a friend. We can be friends, Simon, nothing more. Please try to understand."

Simon was disappointed, but not too upset. Phantom was years older than he was, and it stood to reason that he would be more interested in boys his own age. "It's okay, Phantom. I do understand. I also understand what you've been trying to tell me."

"Good." He gave Simon a firm hug. "You just live your life and be the best you can be. It's up to you how you live your life. I cannot tell you how to do it."

"I know. I have to decide what to do, and when to do it." He looked up at The Phantom. "I think it's best for me right now not to tell everybody about me. I just wish . . ."

"What?"

"There's a boy I like, back home. Before I came here I used to think about him all the time." Simon blushed and he could not help giggling. "I got a boner just looking at him."

The Phantom smiled at the boy's embarrassment. "Have you thought about telling him how you feel? Have you at least tried talking to him?"

"Oh, Phantom, I couldn't do that." Simon heaved a great sigh. "What if I tell him and he hates me? What if he tells everybody, all the other guys, what I said to him?"

"You will never know unless you tell him how you feel, Simon," The Phantom pointed out. "You have to decide to do what everybody does sooner or later in their lives. Take a chance. You cannot go on lying to him because friends do not lie to friends. If you don't at least talk to him about your feelings you will never know, never find out how he really feels about you. You take the chance, Simon." He ruffled Simon's hair. "If he is as good a friend as you think he is then he will still be your friend and respect your confidence. He might not be your boyfriend, though."

Simon sighed. "You make it sound so easy."

"It isn't, Simon." The Phantom looked into the boy's trusting eyes. Simon needed to know the truth. "Being gay is not an easy thing to be. But, being gay is also being happy with yourself, and with your real friends. One day you will find that out. And one day that special person will come along. Trust me on that, Simon. Then you will know what love is all about and you will know that being gay is the most wonderful, glorious thing in the world to be!"

Simon had his doubts, but kept them to himself. He disentangled himself from The Phantom's arms and stood up. He looked thoughtful and then leaned down and gave The Phantom a hug. "I wish it could be you, Phantom," he said with a touch of regret in his voice.

The Phantom returned Simon's hug. "Find your own way, Simon. Just remember, even though we cannot be lovers, we will always be friends. No matter what you decide I will always be your friend and there will always be somebody there to help you. Come by the galley later on and I'll give you a number to call."

Simon was about to turn away when he smiled shyly. His eyes slid over to where Randy and Joey were screaming as Todd chased them around the pool. "Phantom, I've never done anything with a boy and I . . ."

The Phantom followed Simon's gaze. "You will never know if you never ask." Simon grinned and stripped off his swimming shorts, underpants and T-shirt. He ran into the water and began wrestling with Randy, who started yapping and snarling.

Todd, pleading cowardice and the general well being of his hanging bits and pieces, quickly retreated to the beach. He lay down and, with The Phantom, watched the three boys as they laughed and played, as carefree as otters; three boys, tanned, hairless except for the water licked hair on their heads, and the sparse curls atop their genitals, smooth bodied, with gently curving thighs and legs. They were alike, with the sharp angles of childhood replaced by the gentle curves of adolescence, their bodies marred only by their tan lines, stark, white squares of flesh from their waists to mid-thigh where their baggy swimming shorts protected their most precious parts from the harsh rays of the sun, their circumcised penises, short-shafted and crowned with jewel-like helmets, bouncing above their tight sacs.

Watching the three boys as they roughhoused and wrestled Todd turned to The Phantom. "You know, I always wondered why the great masters always painted young boys into their pictures. Now I know."

"They are beautiful," agreed The Phantom. He gave Todd's arm a slight squeeze. "A little while ago you asked me 'why' we have to be prepared to fight." He gestured toward the three boys. "For them, Todd. For them."