Knights of Aurora

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My thanks to my editor, Peter, who has made the story a little better than it was when I first wrote it!

My thanks also to my "phantom editors" who also help to make this a better story. Their proofreading and comments make a difference.

I enjoy hearing your comments and respond to all e-mails (except flames). Please contact me at my home address: paragegi@rogers.com

An update: "The Boys of Aurora" is presently in the editing process and I hope to submit it to a publisher soon. This will be the second book in the series ("The Phantom of Aurora" is still available in print) that I have published (I hope!).

The Knights of Aurora

Chapter 15

Alex opened the door to the bedroom and stepped into the darkness. He was dressed in full camouflage gear and had "painted" his face in shades of green and black stripes, and on his head was his "Fritz"-pattern Kevlar helmet. In the gloom he could make out that one of the two beds was occupied.

The Phantom was cuddled against Colin, who was lying on his side, snoring softly. Alex grinned at the sight of The Phantom's boxer-clad behind, thinking that the kid had a lot going for him - in more ways than one - and that Colin was one hell of a lucky man!

Crossing the room, Alex reached out and gently shook The Phantom's shoulder. "Come on, Big Guy, it's time to shake a leg and drain the snake."

Grunting, The Phantom rolled on his side. "Go away!" he growled sleepily. "It's too early!" Then he opened his eyes and saw the apparition standing beside the bed and gasped, "Jesus! Has war been declared?"

Nodding his head, Alex replied, "In a way. Now get your ass in gear, my Lord, 'cause it's time to prove your stuff!"

Sitting up in the bed, The Phantom stretched and gawped. "Damn!"

"Can't you guys keep quiet?" came Colin's voice. "A guy is trying to sleep!"

"Up yours," retorted The Phantom. "If I'm up, you're up!"

Alex thought it best not to point out that The Phantom was indeed "up" and that perhaps a visit to the heads was in order. The Phantom needed no reminder. He rolled out of the bed, growled, "Hell and sheeit!" and scampered into the bathroom.

Colin followed suit. He stood up and Alex saw that he was wearing well-tented tighty-whiteys. "I'm not as shy," Colin said with a grin.

"So it would seem," replied Alex dryly, thinking that the young blond officer had a lot not to be shy about!

The Phantom returned from the bathroom, took one look at Colin and gasped, "Really, Colin! Do you have to be so obvious?"

Colin looked down at his tented briefs, ostentatiously adjusted himself, winked at Alex and said, "I can only work with what God gave me!" With that he walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

The Phantom watched Colin's retreating backside and then raised his eyes. He turned and saw Alex smiling at him, blushed, and quickly changed tack. "Are the other guys up?"

Alex did not play the double entendre game. "They're reluctantly away and dressing. Breakfast is all laid out in the morning room. You need to shower and . . ."

"I know, I know," said The Phantom impatiently. He opened one of the drawers to the dresser holding his smalls and pulled out a fresh set of underwear: boxers and a white T-shirt. He regarded Alex a moment. "Believe it or not, I do know what I'm doing."

"You do?"

Nodding, The Phantom replied, "I spent a lot of time with my friend and his father in the woods. My dad was also in the army and taught me a few tricks." He smiled warmly at the slim, short American. "Don't worry, I'll be all right."

Alex sat on the unmade bed. "I'm not worried about the older guys. They've all had some orienteering. It's the kids, and the Cousins, I'm a little concerned about."

"If we spread the younger ones about, you know, make sure that they're with an older guy, they should be all right. And Alistair did say that he and his Cousins have been playing in the woods around here and . . ." He looked around the bedroom and a twinkle came into his emerald eyes. "Alistair didn't come home!"

Alex looked around. "Nope."

"Nope? Is that all you have to say about it?"

Shrugging, Alex nodded. "Pete is old enough, Alistair is old enough. Their business, not mine."

A worried look came over The Phantom's face. Things had not gone quite the way he had thought they would.

Alex chuckled. "Don't worry. I don't think anything happened."

"And how would you know that?"

Taking off his helmet, which he hated wearing, because it made his head sweat like a hog in heat, Alex scratched his close-cropped hair. "Because I peeked. I looked into Pete's room and they were lying on the bed, asleep. They both had their underwear on and the lights were on. It looked very . . . platonic."

The Phantom giggled. "Maybe poor Pete was too worn out to participate," he observed.

"Could be. Anyway, they were all cuddled up like a barn dog with its favourite cow."

"It doesn't bother you?" asked The Phantom.

"The cow and the dog?" asked Alex.

"No!"

"Oh, well, no, why should it? It doesn't bother me that you and Colin sleep together. In combat guys sleep together all the time. They have to, for self-preservation! They aren't getting it on. All they're trying to do is keep warm, or dry."

"What about you?" asked The Phantom as he regarded Alex intently.

"Sure, all the time," replied Alex, although he knew what The Phantom was getting at. He stood up and shook his head. "I'm not cuddling with anyone," he said, his voice almost sad. Then he sighed. "Not even a cow!"

Breakfast, as was the custom, was a first come, help yourself, and the Devil take the hindmost meal. There was no seating plan and one sat where there was an empty seat. The long table - moved from Michael's dining room - shone glossily, with small islands of butter in crystal bowls, jams, and pots of honey. On the sideboard, its rosewood veneers protected by a heat resistant pad and a snowy, embossed cloth, held an array of chafing dishes containing porridge, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, kippers and salmon kedgeree, and mounds of freshly baked rolls and croissants wrapped in napkins to keep the bread warm, and set in silver baskets. The side tables held tea and coffee urns, and huge mugs to drink from, and jugs of milk and thick cream, and bowls of sugar. Four footmen in their day livery of black tailcoats and buff waistcoats stood ready to pour tea or coffee, assist in every way, and hand 'round the staple condiment of every North American meal: ketchup!

Chef had arrived early and commandeered one end of the table. Beside him sat, much to everyone's surprise, the Maestro. A rapport of sorts had sprung up between the old cook and the caterer and they were comparing notes. Chef, who had learned his lesson about there being only one cook in the kitchen, was very careful in voicing his concerns and the Maestro nodded sagely, listening to a master.

Calvin, Joey, Randy, and Simon, with Willy, Harry and Teddy Chan, came clattering into the morning room. All were wearing woodland pattern fatigues, with matching forage caps. It was readily evident that while Ned had tried his best, he could not make miracles, and the uniforms the younger boys wore were at least two sizes too large. Still, they all looked warlike, although the effect had been achieved with no little effort on the part of Phil Thornton, who followed the younger group looking sour, and resolving never again to spend a night in the same room with four uninhibited cadets and three frankly curious Chinese boys!

Their plates piled high with food, the three Cousins immediately found Arden and began chattering on in "Court" Mandarin, the dialect used only by the highest-ranking courtiers and nobles with direct access to the Forbidden City and the Emperor. Court Mandarin was taught only to males of the Chan family and rarely used, except to impart the deepest secrets.

Phil did not need a translator to know what the boys were gossiping about. He had had his doubts about welcoming Teddy and Willy into his room, let alone Calvin and Simon, who were supposed to be in their own room with Harry Chan. But Randy and Joey, eager as always, had invited the others and there was little Phil could do about it. He had decided to let the boys have their fun and had stripped down to boxers and T-shirt, and lain on the bed, trying to get to sleep.

Joey and Randy, together with Calvin and Simon, had done what they always did back in Aurora. They too had stripped down to their underwear and sat around, drinking, along with the Cousins, gallons of Coca-Cola and eating mountains of crisps, and two trays of sandwiches sent up from the kitchens.

Phil was lulled into a false sense of security and really not paying attention to the aimless chatter of the seven boys, who were laughing and giggling, burping loudly, the better to impress each other, and breaking wind. The conversation seemed so tame, and inane, that Phil grew drowsy and missed the inevitable reference to sex - penis size actually - dismissing the chatter as just another round of playing silly buggers. He also missed the swearing of that most sacred of oaths amongst young teenage boys: the Pinky Swear.

It had started when Willy had caught a glimpse of Calvin's upper deck fittings, which was not difficult seeing that he was wearing the baggiest pair of boxer shorts the others had ever seen. Willy had opined that Arden was not quite the hung stud he claimed to be. A chorus of oohs and aahs followed this announcement. Randy asked who was biggest amongst the Cousins. Nobody seemed to know, although Teddy thought that it might be Cornelius.

Willy and Harry immediately demanded to know how Teddy had come by that little bit of information. Teddy, reluctant, and not wanting to tell tales out of school, demurred. There were after all, ferengis present! This led first to Calvin and Simon, and then Randy and Joey, swearing undying silence on anything said in the room. Teddy insisted on a Pinky Swear. This done, he said that not only had he seen Cornelius naked, but that he had seen Cornelius naked and hard! Cornelius, who it appeared had not exposed himself in years, went to great lengths to conceal whatever it was he kept in his Fruit of the Looms. Willy interjected that Alistair had to know since he and Cornelius were sneaking off into the woods every chance they got, returning looking very happy!

On the bed, Phil stifled a low moan, trying hard not to remember the time he had snuck into the woods with Louise Metcalf. He had not returned happy!

Everybody quickly forgot to ask just how Teddy had managed to see Cornelius as they began a round of discussion concerning injudicious conduct on the part of their male friends and relations, including real or imagined sizes. Much to Phil's relief neither Randy nor Joey revealed what had happened after he left the woods.

Joey felt it necessary to come to the defence of his fellow cadets when size was mentioned. He regaled the Cousins with the story of how the Pride of the Fleet had been named. He also told them about the Great Aurora Penis Portrait showing. The Cousins were so overcome they collapsed in giggles.

"Honest?" asked Teddy. "There were pictures?"

"Sure were," confirmed Calvin. "You could see everything!"

Willy's almond-shaped eyes quickly turned into awed ovals. "Wow. And nobody got in trouble?"

"Nope," replied Randy. "Chef almost had a heart attack though. And then an admiral came to lunch so we had to take them down." He looked at Joey. "What I'd really like to see is one of the albums!"

"Albums? What albums?" Willy asked.

"Pictures," said Randy. "All the guys took pictures and from what I hear they spent most of the time nekkid as eggs . . ."

"Nekkid?" Harry's eyes widened. "They went sailing nekkid?"

"No. They had to wear clothes then, but when they went ashore for the night they all got nekkid! Even the officers!" replied Joey. He giggled. "The pictures are pretty good, so I hear."

"Gosh," whispered Teddy. "We wouldn't dare take pictures - even if we wanted to!"

Randy snickered and said, "Anyway, Nicholas Rodney - he's the Yeoman of Signals - he was on the trip. He took pictures, too, and after he got back to the ship him and his boyfriend, André Noailles, they got all the rolls of film and took 'em to the Base Photo Shop and had prints made. Then they made up these super albums and everybody who went on the trip got one."

The three Cousins exchanged glances. They hadn't a clue what a "Yeoman of Signals" was, but they knew what a "boyfriend" was. "Um, the pictures, were there some of the guys, um, you know, hard?" asked Teddy.

"And are Nicholas and André like really serious boyfriends?" asked Willy.

"Yeah, tell us," said Harry. "We Pinky Swore and we won't tell, honest!"

"They weren't that kind of picture!" said Calvin with a giggle. "Too bad, 'cause I really would like to see some of them hard!" He sighed lasciviously. "The most I've seen is Phantom's bum!"

Simon poked Calvin in the ribs. "Come on, you've had to have seen more than that!"

Shaking his head, Calvin said, "Nope. I missed all the fun times! You guys got to see everything when you all went swimming after the rifle shoot. And you got to sleep in the barracks. Me, I missed the shoot and because I live in Comox I had to commute!" He furrowed his brow. "Bummer!"

Simon, thankful that Calvin had not revealed that he had seen every inch of his body, giggled. "You live in a barracks and you see a lot of Sea Puppy bone!"

"What's that?" Teddy demanded to know. "What's a Sea Puppy?"

"It's a young guy, like us, first timers. We have our own barracks," explained Simon. "In the morning, when we got up, just about everybody was on the bone - it's natural you know."

Teddy nodded. "We all have our own rooms," he said morosely.

"What, you mean you've never seen . . ." Randy looked at Willy and Harry in turn. " . . . Your cousins?"

"Well, yeah, of course we have," Teddy said, then added hastily, "when we were swimming and changed, but the only bone I've ever seen is my morning woody! And then I pee and it goes away!"

Randy and Joey rolled on the floor laughing at Teddy's statement. Simon and Calvin, equally overcome, clutched each other for support. Phil shook his head asking himself what the hell the brats would come up with next!

When everybody calmed down - more or less - Simon confided, "Well, I did see Todd and Phantom, and Randy and Joey when we went skinny dipping." He could not resist getting in a dig at Calvin who, while a self-professed ass man, had lusted after The Phantom and was always pestering for details. "And I have to tell you, guys, they were impressive!" He sniggered and shot a look at Randy and Joey. "Phantom and Todd, I mean!"

On the bed, Phil groaned and silently asked God not to let what he thought was about to happen, happen.

"What the hell does that mean?" yelped Randy. He had been challenged. "I'm impressive!" He stood up abruptly, pushed down his boxers and lifted up his T-shirt. "See! Now that's pretty damned impressive!" he declared as he waved his genitals at the stunned boys.

"You've got hair!" exclaimed Willy. "You've got red hair!"

"And you're sealed!" whispered Teddy.

For a moment, Randy didn't know what Teddy meant. He looked down at his circumcised penis. "Well, yeah, just about everybody is!" He thought a moment, "Well, except for a few of the guys."

Harry studied Randy closely. Then he said, "It is very impressive. And big!"

Randy looked stunned. "What? You're kidding me!" He looked down again. On a good day he could boast, soft, about two and a half inches. "It ain't that big!"

"Wanna bet?" asked Harry. He stood up and pushed down his tighties. "Look at that! Talk about scrawny!"

Everybody looked. Harry was definitely not the biggest kid on the block. Including the pink, curving knob, he might have an inch and a half, maybe two if it was a warm day. "See what I mean," grumbled Harry. "Fuck, even Teddy is bigger!"

Teddy made a silly face. "Sure am," he giggled. "Wanna see?" He did not wait for an answer and pushed down the shorts and briefs he had on. "Not too shabby, huh?" he asked as he thrust his hips forward.

Phil groaned, "Please God, not show and tell!"

Calvin examined the offered crotch and nodded. "You'll grow," he said. Then he looked at Harry. "But hey, you got hair!"

Harry, who hadn't looked lately, gasped. "I do?"

Calvin reached out a finger. "Yeah, see. I can count one, four, seven of 'em!"

"I got nine!" declared Willy. Then he clapped his hands against his lips. "Uh, um . . ." he mumbled.

"Don't lie!" declared Teddy. "You got nothin' but a little nub!"

"Do too!" retorted Willy hotly. He pushed down the boxers he was wearing. "See! And it ain't a nub. It's bigger that Harry's and almost as big as you!" He gave his cousin an evil look. "And I can squirt!"

"Oh God, let me die now!" begged Phil silently.

"Can not!" declared Teddy. He'd been closer than brothers to Willy and he'd never said a word about being old enough to squirt!

"Can too!" returned Willy hotly. "Just watch!" Before anyone could stop him Willy began pumping on his little appendage. "Just give me a couple of minutes and I'll show you!"

Phil squirmed uneasily on the bed. "No! No jerk offs!" he screamed silently.

Willy's action evoked a chorus of "No!" "Okay I believe you!" and Willy stopped his pumping. "Just remember I offered to show you," he said with a sniff.

"When did you start?" Joey asked. "It took me forever!"

"What time is it?" responded Willy.

Joey pointed to the ornate, gilt French clock sitting on the fireplace mantle. Willy nodded, made a face and declared, "Three weeks, four days and um . . ." he looked at the clock again. "Eleven minutes ago!"

Calvin and Simon exchanged looks. "You keep track?" asked Simon eventually.

"He's very analytical," explained Teddy.

"He can probably tell you how many times he's done it," supplied Harry, his voice betraying his scepticism.

"Daily or the total since I started to squirt?" asked Willy confidently.

"Oh, come on, you can't do that!" protested Simon. "Nobody keeps track of the number of times he squirts!"

"He does," declared Teddy sadly. "Like I said, he's very analytical."

"Today, I squirted nine times since I got up," declared Willy firmly. "It would have been more but I got busy."

"Nine times?" yelped Simon. "That's not possible."

"Sure is," affirmed Willy. He looked at Simon. "Cross my heart, Pinky Swear, and special-super-secret-even-if-you-kill-me-I'll-never-tell-swear!"

"What the hell is that?" Phil wondered, his ears perking up.

Simon's words echoed Phil's thoughts. "What the hell is that?"

Teddy and Harry nodded solemnly. "A very special swear. He's telling the truth!"

Seeing the quizzical look on the faces of the other boys, Willy stood and gestured to Simon. "Stand up, he said."

"What? Why?"

"So I can show you the special-super-secret-even-if-you-kill-me-I'll-never-tell-swear!" explained Willy impatiently. When Simon stood, Willy motioned again. "You have to drop your pants." Simon, reluctantly, did as ordered. Teddy and Harry nodded approvingly at Simon's upper deck fittings.

"Nice," whispered Teddy.

"Handsome," whispered Harry in reply.

Ignoring his cousins, Willy reached out and gently cupped Simon's parts. "Now you do the same to me," he said.

Simon, his hand shaking slightly, did so.

"Okay," said Willy with a grin. "I special-super-secret-even-if-you-kill-me-I'll-never-tell swear that I squirt and I squirted nine times today!"

"Now that's something you'll never see on 'Perry Mason'," opined Calvin. "All they ever use is a Bible!"

Willy, who could feel Simon's hand squeezing ever so gently, leaned forward and whispered, "You can let go now."

"Oh, sorry," replied Simon with a blush.

Giggling, Willy sat down. He looked at Simon. "We only use that swear on very special occasions. Nobody would ever lie with that swear."

"You guys do it often?"

Teddy blushed. "Only when we're horny," he sniggered.

"Do not!" protested Willy. "It's a serious swear!"

"Okay, okay," interrupted Calvin. He looked at Joey, who was trying hard not to laugh. The Cousins might project the image of well-behaved, disciplined little boys, but when the doors were closed and the lights out they were just as randy and curious as a barracks full of Sea Puppies. "So, are we going to measure or not?" he asked.

Since this was something they'd all been hinting around, and they were sitting on the floor with nothing on except T-shirts, measuring seemed to be the next logical step. "Soft or hard?" responded Teddy immediately.

"Hard!" replied Randy with a grin. Teddy's dick was the cutest of the three, or so Randy thought, and he wanted to see it angry.

On the bed, Phil moaned. He wondered if he should put a stop to what was going on. He knew Randy, he knew Joey, and he did not want to be involved in a Chinese-Canadian suck fest! His doubts were put aside, however, when he heard Calvin say, "Okay, but no playing around. You can only touch when you're measuring, and no trying to squirt!"

There were murmured agreements. Simon said, "Um, don't we need a ruler?"

"Maybe there's one in the desk!" exclaimed Joey. He jumped up and ran to the desk where he began opening and closing drawers. The others giggled at the sight of Joey's thin, white behind bouncing around as he bent down to look into the bottom drawers of the desk. "You can look, but not touch!" Joey said over his shoulder as he continued rummaging through the desk. "There's paper, there's ink, hell, why would anybody use red ink anymore?"

"Red ink?" asked Calvin.

"Yeah, there's a bottle of black and a bottle of red and . . ." Smiling triumphantly, Joey held up a small plastic ruler. "A ruler!"

"How long is it?" asked Teddy.

"Six inches," replied Joey returning to the seated group.

"Is that long enough?" asked Willy as he eyed first Calvin's, then Simon's soft penises.

"We'll find out!" exclaimed Randy. He tweaked the head of his penis and rubbed gently. Soon his erection jutted from his body. "Now you gotta do it this way," he said officiously. He took the ruler from Joey and laid his erection along the plastic. "See how I got it pushed in a bit?" The others nodded, impressed that someone knew how to measure a hard dick! "Okay," Randy continued, "from root to head, I'm . . ." he looked down and gazed critically, " . . . four and three, no two eighth's inches - hard!"

The others leaned forward. This was very serious business and no one was about to take anyone at his word. They all nodded. Randy was indeed four and two eighth's inches long, hard!

With the precision of scientists splitting the atom, each boy was carefully measured. Much to everyone's surprise, they were all - more or less - of a size. Simon, who had been a little reluctant at first, found himself puffing up with pride when it was discovered that he was the biggest of the lot, just two-eighths short of five inches. Calvin, who had insisted he was the biggest, was mollified only when it was found that he had the thickest of all five dicks.

"Well, that was interesting," said Harry Chan with a giggle. "Too bad we can't get Arden in here."

"Yeah," nodded Teddy in agreement. "We could prove he's not the biggest of the Cousins."

"Oh, well," replied Harry. Arden wasn't around, so that was that. He had a question for Joey. "What's the biggest you've seen?"

Joey thought a moment. "Well, I don't know, really." He looked to Randy for support and information. Randy seemed to have a mind that automatically calculated the size, girth, and length of every penis he had ever seen, including his brothers'.

"Well, Harry . . ." He looked at Harry Chan. "Harry the Drum Major, he's got the Pride of the Fleet. We've never seen it hard so it's really not fair to say. He's about four soft, I think."

"How many guys have you seen hard?" asked Teddy, wide-eyed.

"Quite a few, actually," replied Randy without elaboration.

"Give over," exclaimed Joey. He looked at the Cousins. "We lived in a barracks! Guys woke up every morning with bones on." Then he frowned. "They all had piss hardons, so that doesn't count."

"Still hardons," reminded Harry.

"True," admitted Randy. "But there's a difference."

"There is?" asked Teddy. "I mean a hardon is a hardon. Look, Willy still has one!"

Willy turned red and quickly covered himself. "You're a pig!" he squeaked.

"So are you!" returned Teddy. "I ain't hard!"

"Well, all this talk about hardons gets me excited!" Willy growled. "Let's talk about something else."

"What?" Randy asked. "I know. Did you see that Blake guy's dick? When he was playing soccer and his kilt flew up?"

All the boys giggled. Phil frowned.

"Yeah. Gosh, it was nice looking," said Willy. He sniggered loudly. "We'll have to ask Cousin Matthew what it looks like angry!"

"What?" exclaimed Simon and Calvin in unison. Joey and Randy exchanged looks, as did Joey Chan and Teddy.

"How would he know?" asked Teddy.

"And how do you know that Matthew would know anyway?" demanded Harry.

"I saw them sneak away from the dance and followed them. They went into the library and locked the door." Willy snickered evilly. "I listened."

"And you called me a pig!" retorted Teddy.

"You are!" Willy continued to giggle. "Anyway, I couldn't hear all that much, just some moans and groans. But I did hear one of them go . . ." Willy flopped on the floor for effect. His erection had subsided but the effect was impressive nevertheless. " . . . 'Ooohhh Fuuuccckkk!' and then I heard a loud grunt . . ." All the while Willy was thrusting his hips and waving his little willy at the others. He sat up. "Wanna guess what that meant?" he asked as he waggled his eyebrows.

"Somebody squirted!" declared Teddy with a giggle.

Harry Chan looked down at his little nubbin and sighed. "I got no hair, my dick looks like one of my mother's thimbles, and I never saw a big dick hard, let alone squirt!"

"You will," said Calvin reassuringly. "Everybody starts to squirt sooner or later. My brother Mikey is like, huge, and he didn't start squirtin' 'til he was 14!"

"And they all look the same," supplied Simon. "Well, maybe not them that hasn't been circum . . . um, 'sealed', like we are." He thought a moment. " . . . Even then, if they pull down the skin, it looks like we do."

"As if you'd know," sneered Calvin.

"I saw Jérémie Cher," confided Simon with a simper. "He is huge! He's got skin and his pecker looks like a big log, real thick and blunty at the end when it's soft! He's got real big balls, too, and his sack is hairy!"

Joey and Randy exchanged a look. "You actually saw him, you know, doing the dirty?" asked Randy.

"Yeah. We were standing the Middle Watch and he told me to get my head down, so I laid down on the bench in the wheelhouse. I guess he thought I was asleep cause I heard him huffin' around and then I looked and he was standin' up, pretending to be watching, with the front of his bells open and I could see everything! There it was, big as life and he was pumpin' it to beat the band!"

"You watched him?" asked Calvin, surprised, for Simon seemed to be the last person on this earth who would have voyeuristic tendencies.

"Well, what was I to do?" asked Simon logically. "I didn't want to give him a heart attack, and it was interesting."

"I'll bet," sniffed Calvin.

"And besides, it didn't last all that long. Before I knew it he pointed his dick into the wastebasket and let go!" He giggled.

"The wastebasket?" yipped Joey. "Didn't he have a handkerchief?"

"Guess not," shrugged Simon. "Anyway, I saw Jérémie Cher slap the monkey. And when he's hard the skin pulls back and it doesn't look too different from mine when I'm hard!"

Calvin, not to be outdone, looked in Phil's direction, assuring himself that the older boy was asleep - he thought - and then leaned forward. "Ya know who I'd like to see choke the chicken?" he asked conspiratorially.

Simon, who had an idea of what was coming, squirmed and gave Calvin a dirty look.

Ignoring Simon, Calvin whispered, "Phantom!"

Rolling his eyes, Simon groaned inwardly. "I knew it!" he thought. "I just bloody knew it!"

"Dirty pervert!" exclaimed Phil mentally. "I always knew there was something strange about that kid!"

Randy nudged Joey, who giggled.

"What?" demanded Calvin as the Cousins sat back, enjoying the exchange and wondering what was happening now. So far this had proved to be a very wonderful, very informative, night. They couldn't wait to see what would happen next.

Simon, who knew Joey and Randy, also knew that the two young cooks were madly in love with The Phantom. He also knew that they had slept with The Phantom. He stared, slack-jawed, his eyes wide as a sudden thought occurred to him. When he gained some measure of control he asked tightly, "You didn't?"

"Didn't what?" Phil asked silently as he raised his head, the better to hear.

Calvin looked darkly at Randy and Joey, "You didn't what?" he asked, his voice reminiscent of a games keeper finding a poacher in the pheasant runs.

"Well, no, not really," temporized Randy.

"We didn't make him . . . uh, like squirt or anything," finished Joey, blushing slightly.

The Cousins exchanged a look and a silent, collective "WOW!" swept the room.

Calvin thought about that little bit of information. Then he turned red, his mouthed worked, but no sound came out. Then he flopped back and groaned so loudly that Phil jerked his head up to see what was happening. Calvin slapped his face and thumped the floor with his fist. "I don't believe it!" he squawked. "I don't fuckin' believe it!"

The Cousins stared, frightened, at Calvin writhing about. "What . . . what's the matter with him?" asked Teddy in a hoarse whisper. "Is he all right?"

Simon nodded his head and scowled at Calvin. "Of course he is! He gets serious wood every time he thinks about Phantom! Hell, you should see him in the morning! I can always tell when he's been dreaming about Phantom!" He hooked his arm and thrust it up and down. "Like iron!"

Calvin stopped his rolling about and glared at Simon. "Do not!" he snapped.

"Do so," returned Simon with a firm nod of his head. "You practically came in your shorts when I told you I'd seen Phantom naked!" He looked at Randy and Joey. "Calvin is seriously warped when it comes to Phantom." He sniffed righteously. "I'm surprised he didn't steal one of the pictures that were hung in the Mess Hall!"

Looking stricken, Calvin asked in a whimpering tone, "One of them was of Phantom?"

Joey sniggered. "Uh, well, duh! He was on the sailing trip and the pictures were of all the guys on the sailing trip!"

"Kill me now!" whimpered Calvin. "Everybody has seen Phantom but me! Pictures of him were all over the dining room and I . . ." he sat up abruptly. "Where are they?"

"Where are what?" asked Randy, although he knew exactly what "they" were.

Glowering fiercely, Calvin replied, "You know what! The PICTURES!"

Joey waved his hand airily. "Oh, those," he said pointedly. "Chef took them." He regarded Calvin a moment and decided to rub a little salt in the wound. "Remember the admiral was coming to lunch? Chef said that he didn't want any pictures of little boy cadet dicks all over the place, so he made Nicholas take them down. Then Chef rolled everything up and took the pictures into his office."

Calvin lowered his head and groaned. Phil thought he sounded like a mastiff on heat. He also thought, "Damn!"

When he finished muttering and sputtering about a malign and vengeful fate, a crafty look came into Calvin's eyes. "Wait a minute!" He laughed cynically. "You guys are lying! You're just pulling my pisser!"

The Cousins exchanged a curious look. Randy and Joey were in no way near Calvin's pisser!

"It's just an expression," rumbled Calvin. He looked intently at the two cooks. "Well?" He turned to Simon. "They are, aren't they? You were there!"

Simon looked confused, then he realized that Calvin was confusing one incident with an alleged other incident.

Phil's ears became sonar domes. "Well this I gotta hear!"

Shaking his head, Simon replied. "I don't know what they're talking about!" he declared truthfully. "It didn't happen when we were skinny dipping." He did not add that any squirting The Phantom might have done, and Simon was very certain that Todd and The Phantom had been playing, had been done before he arrived on the scene. Nor did he think it wise to add that Todd and The Phantom had not stayed on the beach. They went back to the gunroom, leaving him alone with Joey and Randy. Then he added, "And it's none of our business, anyway."

Calvin sneered at Simon. They he smiled winningly at Randy and Joey. "You're lying," he said smoothly. "Phantom isn't the kind of guy who'd let you choke his chicken."

His honesty questioned, his honour impugned, Randy sniffed royally. "A lot you know, asswipe!"

Calvin was determined to either learn what had actually happened between Joey, Randy and The Phantom, or kill the two young cooks. He held his temper, and his raging curiosity in check. "Well, if you ask me, in order to get Phantom to the point where you 'almost' made him squirt, you had to get him hard and that you can't have done!" he said triumphantly.

"Oh, and how do you know that?" asked Randy smoothly.

"Come on! Phantom lived ashore. He went home every night!" exclaimed Calvin, sure of himself. "He was always in the galley and even you two perverts wouldn't try anything in there! Not with Chef around!"

"Wanna bet?" Phil asked silently.

Joey studied his fingernails diffidently. "Maybe," he murmured and then giggled.

Simon stared at Randy and Joey, his mouth open, his eyes wide. Suddenly he realized that they had done something. "You mean you . . .?" he asked.

"We're not saying nothin'," replied Randy. He was frankly enjoying the moment. Calvin was almost as big a pain in the ass, going on and on about The Phantom and his dick, as Cory was, checking out every swinging dick in the ship. Randy looked obliquely at Joey and smiled. "It was a very private moment. Nice people don't talk about such things."

"Bull shit!" thought Phil. "You two never kept a secret in your miserable little lives!" Then he realized that this was not entirely true. They hadn't yapped about their relationship with him!

Unwittingly, Simon opened the ball. "But you can't have!" he declared. "You never had the chance!"

Randy arched one red eyebrow. "Oh?"

The Cousins couldn't stand it! This silly interplay was too much. Calvin was hot to trot to learn how, when and where Randy and Joey had "almost" made The Phantom - whom they had seen, and didn't blame Randy and Joey in the least for trying it on with him - squirt. Randy, or Joey, or both of them, were toying with Calvin and obviously would not have mentioned the subject if they didn't want to tell about it!

"Uh, you're not being fair," said Willy Chan. "You did something, I think, but you won't tell us!" he finished with a note of indignation in his voice.

"Yeah!" interjected Teddy. "We Pinky Swore!"

"And Willy told you about seeing Cornelius hard," said Harry Chan.

"And Simon told about seeing . . . Jérémie? Yeah, Jérémie Cher squirting into the wastebasket!" added Willy Chan. "And we all measured our dicks together. That's got to mean something!"

Calvin gave Randy and Joey a "so there!" look.

"Well, I don't know," began Joey with apparent hesitation. "It's kinda personal you know, and Phantom would be very angry if he found out we told you!" He glanced at Randy, who had a gleam in his eyes, and shrugged. "We love Phantom. He's our Honourary Big Brother!"

"So? Cornelius is our actual blood Cousin, and I told you about him!" returned Willy. He looked at the two cooks and said seriously, "We know how to keep secrets," he said sternly. "We only told you about Cornelius 'cause you're our friends. We wouldn't ever tell anybody what you told us."

Randy glanced at Willy's bare crotch. "Hmmm," he said, pretending to think. Then he shook his head. "I don't think so," he said.

Joey, who knew Randy better than anyone, knew that his friend was plotting to get his hand's on Little Willy, if only to cop a feel. "Yeah," he said looking at each bare Cousin crotch in turn. "Maybe Randy is right."

"Please?" Calvin wheedled plaintively. "Pleeeaaassse!"

Simon, curious as a cat, added, "Yeah, come on, tell us!"

"FOR FUCK SAKE TELL OR SHUT UP!" howled Phil mentally. He pretended to snuffle and mumble. Maybe that would get them going!

Everybody looked at Phil and then Randy said, "Don't worry. He's dead to the world. He sleeps like a log."

"Yeah, right!" answered Phil silently.

"So, are you going to tell?" asked Calvin, all but drooling with anticipation.

Randy was wondering how long he could keep up the act when Teddy stood and broke the impasse. "We'll even special-super-secret-even-if-you-kill-me-I'll-never-tell swear!"

"We will?" asked Harry Chan. This was a very important swear, never used outside of the family and certainly never with ferengis.

"We will," said Teddy firmly. He motioned to both Joey and Randy. "Stand up."

Both Randy and Joey regarded Teddy's rather handsome fittings. "Okay," said Joey, rising to his feet.

"Okay," said Randy. He rose to stand beside Joey. "Do you special-super-secret-even-if-you-kill-me-I'll-never-tell swear never to tell?"

Teddy nodded silently and stuck out both hands. He cupped Randy and Joey. "I special-super-secret-even-if-you-kill-me-I'll-never-tell swear!" he said, smiling inwardly. He had never touched another boy before but damn it sure felt good!

First Randy, then Joey, returned the gesture.

Teddy moved away and Harry Chan took his place. He repeated the swear, and squeezed first Randy, then Joey. Willy Chan, delighted at the opportunity, took Harry's place. His hands lingered as he said, "I special-super-secret-even-if-you-kill-me-I'll-never-tell swear!"

Phil rolled on his back and turned his head slightly, squinting to see what was happening.

Joey looked at Calvin and Simon. "Well?"

Calvin jumped to his feet, spread his legs, offered his plumpness and reached out to cup Joey. "I special-super-secret-even-if-you-kill-me-I'll-never-tell swear," he said. Then, for emphasis, he rubbed his thumb across the smooth, sloping head of Joey's soft penis. Then he did the same to Randy.

Randy eyes slid sideways. Out of the corner of his eyes a look flashed to Joey. Simon had better watch out! Better yet, Calvin and Simon had better watch out!

"Jesus, they're going to put the moves on Calvin!" thought Phil. Then he thought, "Good, 'cause I sure as fuck need a rest!"

Simon, not to be left out, stood up and moved close to Joey and Randy. He reached out and shyly took them in his hands. "I special-super-secret-even-if-you-kill-me-I'll-never-tell swear, too." he whispered.

Although it was not a part of the swear, both Randy and Joey repeated Calvin's gesture, rubbing their thumbs gently across the head of Simon's penis.

Phil let out a very long low sigh. "Thank Christ! Now get on with it!"

Glancing at Phil, and hoping the big galoot was asleep, Randy sat down and looked at the expectant Cousins, and Calvin and Simon.

"Well, since we all swore the most sacred swear, I guess we can tell you." He smirked at Joey and then said, "I'm afraid of thunder," he admitted honestly, "and one night there was this really bad storm. There was lots of thunder and lightning and me and Joey, we couldn't cuddle together in the barracks so we went to the Mess Hall."

"I remember that night," said Calvin. "The wind blew down one of the trees and it just missed the house. My dad was ever so pissed at what it cost to get the tree taken away."

The Cousins nodded sagely. They seemed to recall such a night. "So you guys went into the Mess Hall?" asked Teddy. Why would they take shelter in a Mess Hall?

Joey explained. "There's a lounge in the Mess Hall. It has couches and we wanted to be together, you know, to help each other, so we went there."

"And Phantom was there?" asked Simon.

"Yeah. He'd stayed over and was all nested down in the lounge. We went in and after I explained why we were there he was very nice and made up bunks for us," said Randy. "He slept in the middle and we cuddled. It was ever so nice."

"How well I know!" mumbled Phil inaudibly. "Been there, done that!"

Calvin groaned with sudden jealously and hugged himself. "Why them, Lord, why them?"

"So he got, um, you know, and that's when you . . ." began Teddy.

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Joey fiercely. "Phantom would never do such a thing! He never touched us and he never will! He's too nice and besides, he's in love with Lieutenant Arnott!"

"As if that would make a difference," thought Phil, "You two made me without too much trouble!"

"Phantom is not into young boys," said Randy. "He likes us, as his little brothers. But he would never do anything wrong."

"But how did you manage to, you know?" asked Harry Chan as he reached down and rubbed his penis.

"Well, Phantom fell asleep," began Joey. "And there we were, in bed with Phantom!" He looked at Simon, "I mean we were in bed with Phantom!"

"So you decided to feel him up!" exclaimed Calvin, a hurt look on his face.

"Well, we wanted to see what he looked like," replied Randy without remorse. "We'd seen and Ray, and Sandro, up close and personal when we showered, but it WAS Phantom!" He looked at Calvin. "And don't tell us you would not have done the same if given half the chance!"

Calvin had to admit that he would have done the same, except that he didn't yet know what they had done.

"Was Phantom nekkid?" asked Teddy, quite in the thrall of it all.

"No," replied Joey. "He was wearing a T-shirt and boxers. He never wears tighties."

"Oh," said Teddy, wondering what Phantom's choice of underwear had to do with things.

"Anyway, Phantom was lying there, and we decided to just look," said Randy. "We didn't plan on getting him hard, or anything like that. We just wanted to see what he looked like."

"And you sure as hell found out!" snarled Phil under his breath.

"He had his legs spread," Joey went on. "And the front of his undies was open, so we just sort of eased his pecker out and looked at it."

"It's very handsome," advised Randy. "It was dark, so we couldn't see all that much, but what we saw was impressive!"

"And since it was 'very impressive' you just had to see it hard!" sniped Calvin.

"Jealousy is a very ugly thing, Calvin," returned Randy. "Especially in a redhead. It makes our skin turn all splotchy!"

"Piss off," snarled Calvin. "And I'm not jealous!"

"Yes, you are," muttered Simon. Calvin's infatuation was really getting to be too much.

Calvin glared at his lover, said nothing, and motioned for Joey to continue.

"Well, we had Phantom's pecker out and then we sort of rubbed his secret spot, and it got hard."

"What's that?" asked Teddy. He never knew that there was a secret spot. "Do I have one?"

"Sure," said Randy with a grin. "Lie down and I'll show you." Ignoring the dirty look from Joey, Randy said, "Spread your legs a bit." Teddy did. Randy reached down and very gently pushed Teddy's soft penis up onto his stomach. "Okay, now . . ." He licked his forefinger with his tongue and very slowly pointed it against the underside of Teddy's penis, just where the cleft of the circumcised head joined the shaft.

Randy began to rub, a featherlike touch that caused Teddy to jump and gasp, "Holy shit!"

Harry and Willy looked, wide-eyed and mesmerized, as Randy continued to rub Teddy, whose penis, reacting to the stimulating got harder and harder. Teddy began squirming and thrusting, grunting, "Oh God! Oh shit! Oh fuck that feels good!"

Joey, Simon, Calvin, Willy and Harry could not tear their eyes away. They had never seen such a sight before. As they watched, a small crystal bead seemed to ooze out of the head of Teddy's penis, which had turned a bright crimson. "What's that?" whispered Harry Chan.

"I thought you said you don't squirt yet," Randy asked Teddy, who was rigid with lust.

"I don't!" growled Teddy. He thrust his hips upward. "Don't stop!"

"Well, you will soon," observed Randy. "That's precum and . . ."

Before Randy could finish, Teddy yelped. His body arched, his eyes flew open and his mouth gaped widely. His penis twitched and a small, almost translucent liquid drizzled out of the slit in his penis. Teddy bucked wildly and then collapsed. "Oh my God," he breathed. "Oh my God did that feel good!"

Phil almost fainted. Had Randy just given Teddy a hand job?

Randy had. Willy and Harry couldn't believe what had happened. They stared at their cousin and then Willy whispered, "Teddy, you squirted!"

Teddy, confused, raised his head and looked down at his softening penis. "I did?"

Randy withdrew his finger. "Yep, you sure did."

Willy looked at Harry, who looked at Willy. Both boys suddenly flopped on their backs. "Do it to me next!" pleaded Willy.

"No, me!" demanded Harry.

They both looked eagerly at Randy, who was nonplussed and not quite sure what he should do. Fiddling with Teddy was one thing, initiating two relative strangers in boy sex, another.

"Nice move, Mr. Spasky," growled Simon, who was a chess aficionado. "What's next? A double header?"

Much to Harry and Willy's disappointment Phil decided that enough was enough. Besides, the little bastards were getting him horny! He coughed loudly, rolled on his side, and pretended grogginess. "What . . . what are you clowns doing up?" He sat up slowly. "And where are your pants?"

Joey and Randy, who had no shame where Phil was concerned, grinned like imps. The others quickly covered themselves.

"Get to bed," Phil snarled. "And put on your underpants!"

Ignoring the other bed, everybody piled in with Phil. He ordered everyone to sleep, and no nonsense! Very soon the soft, measured breathing of sleeping boys filled the room. Phil, finally satisfied that the brats were asleep, settled back, cradling Randy in one arm and Joey in the other. He had just drifted of when he felt a small hand slowly drift up the outside of the leg of his boxers and gently probe the slit in the cotton shorts. He felt his penis being slowly lifted out and then what was obviously a thumb rubbing his "secret spot". At first he was about to protest. Then he thought, "What the hell . . .! "

The morning room filled as more and more of the young knights and Cousins came down for breakfast. The older knights, Tyler and Val wore the plain green combats that they had been issued with when they did QUEST. Mark and Tony were wearing an almost identical set of combats, which they had traded for when on an exchange with the Junior ROTC. Harry lumbered in, looking tired and cranky. Arden, as happy as a lark, spotted Max and Joey Chan and went over to giggle and chatter with them, and to find out if anything had happened during the night.

Pete Sheppard, dressed in a sombre business suit, with Alistair at his side came in and immediately went to the buffet. The Phantom smiled at Alistair and nodded approvingly at the fresh, crisp set of fatigues the Chinese youth was wearing. He watched as Alistair selected a freshly baked roll and then asked quietly, "Well?"

Ducking his head, Alistair returned the smile shyly. "It was . . . heaven." He saw the look that came into The Phantom's eyes and whispered, "And no, we didn't!"

"You didn't?" asked The Phantom, his voice rising slightly in surprise.

Shaking is head, Alistair said, "No. We lay on his bed, and he held me, and I held him and for the longest time he just looked at me. Then he told me that I was very handsome, and very nice." He looked quickly around the room to make certain that no one was listening. "Then he kissed me, ever so gently."

"That's all?"

"Well, I kissed him back and then he said that he would like to get to know me better and did I mind if he asked permission for him to take me out one night, to the films." Alistair rolled his eyes. "Gosh, Phantom, he treated me like I was some precious piece of china! I mean he had to have felt my . . . well, never mind. Anyway, he's going to ask Michael if I can go out with him."

"It seems to me that he wants to go slow," said The Phantom reflectively. "You know, make sure if his feelings."

Alistair blushed. "I know how I feel!" he said.

"Obviously," replied The Phantom with grin. "So then what happened?"

"He thanked me for being there for him and then he stroked my cheek a bit and then he fell asleep. This morning when we woke up he asked me if I was going on the exercise and when I told him I was he gave me these." Alistair fingered the lapel of the fatigue jacket. "He said they were almost new, and that I could wear them. He gave me the boots, too."

"No gift of gold?" asked The Phantom.

"What?"

"Oh, it's just that some people give gold to the one they love and want to be with," said The Phantom. He glanced over to where Tyler and Val were standing. "It's the done thing in some societies."

Shaking his head, Alistair said, "No. But I have this wonderful feeling, Phantom. Everything feels so right between Pete and me!"

"Then it is," replied The Phantom happily. He looked up to see Michael, the Major, Commander Stockman, Andy and Kyle, and Laurence enter the room. "Hey up, the high-priced help is here." He turned to greet Michael and then turned back. "Don't worry. Michael will do it." He waggled his eyebrows. "Make Pete get seats in the balcony, just in case the film is boring!"

After greeting the knights and Cousins, Michael accepted a cup of tea and looked thoughtful a moment. Then he spoke quietly to the assembled youths. "I know it is very early, and I suspect that some of you have had very little sleep." He heard muted giggling but ignored it. "Today we have planned a small outing for you. I am not a military man so I have asked Lieutenant Howard . . ." he gestured toward Laurence, "to be in charge."

Laurence, resplendent in Royal Marine combats and a green beret adorned with the gold RM crest, bowed and looked about the room. "Gentlemen, we are going to play a game." The room grew very quiet.

Smiling, Laurence said, "First, we will play safe, so there will be no weapons at all." He glanced at Alex Grinchsten, who was lounging against the doorpost. Alex smiled thinly, and nodded. "We will, however, have some surprises that I hope will please you," Laurence continued. He searched the pockets of his camouflage jacket and found what he was looking for. He held up a piece of paper - a copy of the map that Ned had distributed. "What we have is a variation on the old 'Capture the flag' scenario. Where you raise your flag is up to you, although I have marked out certain areas to help you."

Cory leaned in toward Todd. "If we need a flag I think Andy still has those paisley drawers!" he said with a snigger.

" . . . Your task," Laurence was saying, "will be to first, establish and defend your 'command post'. Second, you will attempt to capture the enemy force's flag. You will be told the general area of where this flag will be but I feel I must warn you that OpFor has a reputation for sneakiness."

Tyler and Val nodded to each other. Ned Hadfield was CO-OpFor and his audacity at allowing them to win at poker still rankled. Ned Hadfield was goin' down!

"What I would like," Laurence continued, "is for you to form two basic units, the actual force defending your main position, and hunter-killer groups to hunt down and eliminate the enemy force." He saw the smiles on some of the young knights' faces and held up his hand. "There is to be no violence and whatever you do, you cannot cause injury. You may capture your enemy, as he may capture you. How you capture him is up to you. Just remember that we want a safe exercise!"

The assembled young men nodded.

"Now, how you form your command structure and hunter groups is up to you. I don't know you, but you do know each other and what you are capable of. I like to think that each of you knows the strengths and weaknesses of the others so I shall leave you to it to sort yourselves out. Commander Stockman, Ensign Berg, Sub-Lieutenant St. Vincent and I shall act as referees. Our decisions are final and there is no appeal. If we say you're out, you're out and no lip from the Peanut Gallery." He looked directly at Randy and Joey whose reputations had obviously preceded them. "The Chan cousins, because they have been doing whatever they do in the woods around the cantonment will be a part of the exercise. Use their knowledge!"

Holding up the map again, Laurence frowned. "This map, which you will all have, is suspect." There was a collective gasp. Everybody knew who supplied the map. "Apparently some of the trails marked either do not exist, or lead to entirely different sites!" He waited for the muttering about treachery and treason to subside and went on, "The Cousins, or so I have been told, know what trails lead where. I suggest you consult with them." Laurence looked down at his wristwatch. "Finish your breakfast and then we will be off." He smiled conspiratorially. "You will have approximately an hour and a half before Ned Hadfield and his men know you've gone!"

While the "high priced help" retired to the terrace, the knights and cousins sorted themselves out. The Phantom, who freely admitted that his knowledge of command and control was limited, deferred to Harry, who had done all the courses and actually was quite competent. Harry tried to defer to Todd, but was refused. Harry knew what he was doing so he was to do it! Much against his better will, but never saying die, Harry rose to the fore. He decided that The Phantom, who had extensive knowledge about the woods and forests, thanks to his friendship with Big Sam, was told to organize the "hunter-killer" groups. Todd would set up the command post and the defensive perimeter. Harry, as Commanding-General, would do what he thought all generals did, sit back at a safe distance and supervise.

After being formed into groups, the knights and Cousins broke off to plot. Randy and Joey were teamed with Phil, and Teddy, Willy and Harry Chan. The three Chinese boys studied Ned's map and growled to each other. They all agreed that the tall West Virginian had cheated, and they did not like it at all.

Nether did Randy or Joey. Randy growled low, "Too Tall is goin' down!"

Joey nodded his head. "Big Time!"

On the terrace Michael asked Laurence if he was comfortable with the plans for the day. Laurence nodded. "I'm not worried. Their minders will be around and I've given them strict instructions that there is to be no hint of danger or injury at any time."

Michael nodded. "Good. All of the minders are experienced. What of the hikers and tourists?"

"We've closed off the road leading to the trails - not that we have to worry about the hikers and such. The season is all but over and we rarely see anyone before noon," replied Laurence.

"Good. The Major has notified the Parks people. They know that I have a large security force and that they train from time to time. The Major has promised that there will be minimal disruption so please keep the boys in the deep woods, where the tourists never go anyway."

"Ned has no idea that we are starting early?" asked Commander Stockman.

Laurence chuckled. "Not a clue. As far as I know he's still abed, as are the men he's designated to be a part of his force."

Commander Stockman looked sceptical. "The boys can be um, rather exuberant at times," he warned.

"Good!" exclaimed Michael. "I want them to be just that. They must learn to think, to act and react in the face of adversity. Ned will pull no punches. I know him. He is very experienced and very smart underneath that Hillbilly persona."

"And Harry is just as experienced, in some ways, and smart, and very sneaky. He pretends to be a dumb farmer, which is the last thing he is," advised Kyle. "I've seen him in action and he's good."

"And Phantom?" asked Andy quietly.

Think a moment, Michael replied, "He is young, and he is impetuous. His colleagues and shipmates love him beyond description. He has charisma. We will now we see if our faith in him is justified. We will see if he can lead men!" He smiled thinly. "Phantom leads with his heart, and not his mind," Michael said gravely.

Michael's stoic demeanour did not give a hint as to what he was also thinking. "Phantom . . . Philip Andrew Thomas Lascelles . . . is the chosen successor. He will be Grand Master one day and I must make certain that the decisions he makes are made not through emotion, or love - which he prizes highly - but through logic and clear, dispassionate consideration. He must learn to let his head rule his heart. I must be sure."

Commander Stockman bristled. The Phantom had his flaws it was true. But everybody did! What annoyed Father was that he had seen the lad nearly every day for two months! In those two months The Phantom had shown no significant flaw to the Commander. Father had seen the lad organize a team of stewards, coach a timorous boy into jumping into the harbour, pilot an unfamiliar gate tender to a perfect stop, and display selfless valour in his protection of other boys in the fire on Yochim Island. He had seen The Phantom's quick grasp of the moment, as he became the Inspecting Officer. Father knew without doubt that the lads would follow their Phantom into hell and he had seen little reason to fault the boy!

Although he was new to the Order, Commander Stockman sensed that Michael had great plans for the young man called The Phantom. He did not know what those plans were, or when they would be put into practice. He also sensed that this morning's exercise was a test. Fine, let there be a test, but no one could doubt, at least as far as Father was concerned, The Phantom's abilities. Michael had not seen The Phantom in action. Commander Stockman had and this led him to say, "We know Phantom's passions," he said quietly. "Perhaps, we will now see that he also has the ability to command with foresight and reason."

"Perhaps we shall," replied Michael with a slight nod of his head acknowledging what he felt was the Commander's insight. He was surprised at the Commander's warmth of tone. The man was no fool and for a moment Michael questioned his doubts. Still, he would watch closely the events of the day.

Michael was about to rise when Andy coughed. Michael raised an eyebrow. "Is there something else, Sir Andrew?

Andy nodded. He wanted to express a concern that had been nagging at him. Before retiring last night he had discussed his concern with Kyle, who had agreed that Andy and he should speak up. "There is one other matter."

Michael nodded. "Which is?"

"The doctor. I don't trust him," replied Andy with some heat. "I'm glad he won't be around the boys this morning. He may be an officer, but I simply don't trust him."

Kyle nodded. "He's a skank."

"And in my opinion," interjected Colin, thinking that if he was the Guardian of Princes, he should damned well have an opinion, "Doctor Bradley-Smith has many flaws and damned few strengths to speak of!"

"Damned bad sort," rumbled Commander Stockman as he ruffled his beard. "Wouldn't be tolerated in any decent Wardroom!"

Smiling thinly, Michael replied. "It would seem that we are all in agreement with regard to the doctor." He assumed a stern, foreboding look. "I share all of your concerns, and I am aware of the doctor's . . . flaws. I will only tell you that he will be dealt with. Not now, not today, not tomorrow; but that is my problem, first as Grand Master, secondly as the Serenity." He looked evenly at each man in turn. "All you need to know is that you will not be here when it happens and you will not know what happens."

Michael's tone was such that none of the men thought it wise to continue further. They heard the others beginning to leave and rose. Andy looked at Kyle. "Are you all right with what will happen?"

Kyle shrugged. "Personally I take it as an affront that the man was ever made an officer," he snapped. "What happens to him, happens and what I don't know about I can't testify about."

Daniel awoke to a soft knocking on the door of his bedroom. He stretched languidly, a smile forming on his face, as he remembered his time with Pete Sheppard. Pete was no Quinn Bogart when it came to size, but he did have a certain finesse, which caused Daniel to shiver at the memory. Stretching, he called out, "Come!"

The footman, tall, blond, and well muscled, smiled a greeting. "Good morning, Sir Daniel," he said as he walked to the windows and pulled aside the curtains, letting in the weak light of the rising morning sun. "It seems we will be having a very fine morning."

Daniel, who was naked under the covers, reached down to give himself a reflective scratch, not paying attention to the footman, who had opened the windows. The room, the house seemed very quiet. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Just gone six, sir." The Major had carefully coached the footman, who was actually a member of the Protection Service, but seconded to inside duties as "Staff". He was also a former Royal Marine, and the only member of the Service that had an acquaintance with the duties of a steward, having been a "Fleet Marine" in Ark Royal and, as was traditional, looked after four officers.

"Damn," muttered Daniel. "It's very quiet. Where is everybody?"

"The young gentlemen have all left for their exercises," the footman replied in a clipped, English accent, softened by the burr of the Midlands. "Would sir care for breakfast now, or should I run sir's bath?"

While Daniel was revelling in the unaccustomed luxury afforded a guest of Michael Chan, Diem's grave admonitions echoed. Business first. Throwing aside the bed covers, Daniel sidled - seductively he thought since the footman was cute - and sat on the small chair in front of the dressing table. Almost immediately a heavy, padded dressing gown was draped over his shoulders, hiding his naked body. Sighing an "Oh well, win some, lose some," thought as he regarded the reflection of the footman, Daniel asked, "You're new here?"

"I have been in Mr. Chan's employ for several years," replied the footman without inflection, and honestly. He did not add that he had been employed as a guard, and not as a footman.

There was another muffled volley of rifle fire and Daniel looked startled. "What is going on?" he asked testily.

Years of Royal Marine training proved their worth. The footman remained impassive as he began to lay out Daniel's clothes: underpants - silk underpants he noted - trousers, shirt and socks. As he carefully laid the garments onto the bed the footman replied, "I am not really sure, sir. I am Staff, and we rarely know what the outside people are doing. I did hear that some new men came in during the night." He pretended to look carefully around as if ensuring himself that no one was listening. "I shouldn't say, sir, but I understand that with the Chinese being sent home, Mr. Michael thought it best to bring in some new men. It's all very . . . interesting."

Daniel lowered his eyes and contemplated his fingernails. Servants loved to gossip and this little titbit coincided with what Pete had told him. So, Michael had increased security, as Diem had feared. He pretended indifference as he picked up a comb and ran it through his short-cut hair. "More work for you, I suppose," he asked with seeming disinterest.

"Ah, no," replied the footman. "The Security Force is a separate establishment. They rarely come inside the house." He sniffed what he thought was a superior sniff. "There are some others though and they, well, let us just say that at times we have to put up with a most loathsome group of Neanderthals, peasants, really."

Playing the role of a superior servant to the hilt, the footman continued. "Quite uncultured and they speak the most incomprehensible language." He walked to the closet and removed Daniel's navy uniform and mess kit. "I'll give these a good brushing." He regarded Daniel a moment. "You do have the Ceremony later this afternoon and the dinner this evening." He gave Daniel a small smile. "I am sure that sir wants to look his best."

Daniel nodded. He felt so wonderfully Navy in the blue uniforms. Technically all officers, regardless of "Command", were required by Dress Regulations to have a Loden green mess kit, which, in Daniel's opinion, made them look like Chief Stewards on second-rate liners, and did not suit his colouring, so he had, as just about every naval officer he knew who had joined after Unification, visited a tailor and had a proper blue mess kit built for him. He even had the scarlet cloth of a Naval Surgeon sewn between the twin stripes of his rank. He wore that uniform on every occasion he possibly could because with its bum freezer jacket and tight, gold-laced trousers it set off his figure delightfully.

The footman continued his inane chatter. "They seem to converse in grunts, but then what can one expect from the Tsangs?"

Daniel cocked an eyebrow. "The what?"

"Oh, they are a family that owes some sort of allegiance to Mr. Chan. They are brutes, functioning illiterates really," replied the footman, the words dripping with feigned scorn. "They clutter up the corridors below stairs and pop up at the most inappropriate times." He walked toward the door. "Shall you take breakfast in your room, sir?"

Daniel waved his hand dismissively. Silly fool, he thought. Not worth the effort to seduce. "No. I shall take breakfast downstairs," he said indifferently. "And I do not bathe. I shower."

"As you wish, sir. If you need anything, please ring."

Nodding, Daniel seemed to be more interested in his hair and the state of his fingernails.

The footman left the bedroom and slowly closed the door behind him. Using the back stairs he took the direct route to the central control room. Here he met Major Meinertzhagen and nodded. The Major returned the nod and smiled approvingly. One more plank in Daniel Bradley-Smith's coffin had been placed.

The physical examinations of the new recruits were scheduled to begin at 0900, although Daniel had begun his work an hour or so earlier. He had been eating a leisurely breakfast, attended by a lone footman (who did not seem at all pleased at having to serve one lone diner), and reading the morning newspaper, when Major Meinertzhagen entered the small room. Daniel did not notice the Major give the footman a quick jerk of his head. The footman smiled his thanks and quickly departed the dining room. Daniel did notice when the Major placed a huge pile of what were obviously personnel dossiers on the table in front of him.

Barely hiding his anger at being disturbed so abruptly, Daniel languidly pointed his fork (on which was a half eaten link of sausage) at the buff folders. "And what are these?" he asked.

"These," the Major drawled, keeping the sneer from his voice, "are the new recruits files. You might find them interesting reading." He looked fiercely at the doctor. "You do remember that you are to examine the new lads this morning?"

Looking bleakly at the pile of folders, Daniel responded with a grimace, "All day, if that lot is any indication," he said unhappily. "I'm not an automaton, you know."

"No. You are the physician in residence and Michael Chan has asked a service of you. All you have to do is look at some men." Knowing what he knew about the doctor, the Major almost added, "And a fine old time you'll have doing that, no doubt!"

"Pete Sheppard told me that there are 54 of them!" whined the doctor.

"54 or four, it makes no matter," replied the Major, his tone suggesting that the doctor would be well served if he shut up and got on with the job. "All you have to do is make certain that they have all the right bits and pieces in all the right places, no obvious physical deformities and are free of communicable diseases."

"May I finish my breakfast?" asked the doctor snappishly.

"Of course. The car is outside to take you over to the medical facility whenever you are ready," replied the Major. "The men will assemble at 0900." He turned abruptly on his heels and left the dining room, leaving an unspoken, but echoing "And you better have your ass there on time" lingering.

Defeated, Daniel hurriedly downed his sausages and eggs, gathered up the files, and huffily stomped out of the house and into the waiting car.

The car stopped at the rear of the building designated as the medical facility. The Security Force ordinarily used the long, white-painted wooden structure as a gymnasium. In addition to the long, wide main room, there were shower facilities, a small galley, and a large office. Daniel entered the building through a door that gave access directly to the office, which was designated as the "Surgery". Here he saw that the supplies and equipment he had ordered the day before not only had been delivered but also had been set up in a very professional manner. In addition to the desk and chair, he saw that in the middle of the room was a portable examination table. Arranged on two side tables were rubber gloves, boxes of tongue depressors, a small sterilizer hissing away, a stethoscope, and the few instruments he would need to perform the most cursory of examinations. On the back of the door hung a long, starched, white coat of the type favoured by doctors to enhance their professional appearance.

Hearing a scuffle of shoe leather against wood, Daniel opened the door to his surgery and stuck his head out. At the far end of the gym were two tables on which were piled short hospital gowns, inadequate protectors of public morality at the best of times. Two men, both dressed in the starched, white, short-sleeved, high-necked tunics favoured by male nurses, were checking the quantities against a list. Daniel left the surgery and walked down the gym. Both men turned.

"Hello," the taller of the two men called. "You must be Lieutenant Bradley-Smith."

"I am," replied Daniel, studying his "nurses". They were both of a type, about average in height and build, well muscled under starch, and not at all bad looking. Both had dark brown hair and an air of confidence about them, which was not surprising as both were former Navy Corpsmen, and both had served with Marine units in Vietnam (as was traditional for Navy Corpsmen).

The slightly taller of the two men held out his hand. "I'm Thad Stevens," he said in a deep voice. "And this is Jude Benjamin." The shorter of the two men nodded.

"You're nurses?" asked Daniel.

"Navy Corpsmen," responded Jude, his voice filled with pride. "Mr. Michael asked us to help out, you know, do the blood pressure, weight, the scut work."

"We have 54, you know," said Daniel. "We'll be here all day!"

Thad ignored the slightly whining tone in the doctor's voice. "We'll try to move them along." He regarded the doctor and then asked, "You have their files?"

Nodding, Daniel gestured toward the surgery. "Yes. I looked them over, or most of them, and they all appear to be healthy enough." He indicated the pile of hospital gowns. "And you don't need those. Just have the men strip to their underwear." He turned on his heels. "If one of you would like to pick up the files . . .?" he said over his shoulder as he returned into his surgery.

Jude glared at the doctor's back. "Not a very friendly type, is he?"

"We don't have to like him," replied Thad. "Mr. Michael said we were to watch him." He sniggered. "If you ask me, if that skank is given half a chance he'll give a whole new meaning to 'oral thermometer'!"

Jude sniggered helplessly. "It's going to be a looonnnggg day!"

As he finished reading the personnel files, Daniel became aware of shuffling feet and muted voices in the main room outside the surgery door. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was a few minutes past nine. He squared his shoulders, remembered that he was a doctor, and a professional. He had a duty to do, nothing more and nothing less. He rose from behind his desk and quickly opened the surgery door.

Daniel almost fainted. In the main room, milling about, were men - almost all young, almost all superbly muscled, and all of them semi-nude, wearing only their underpants, boxers for the most part, tighty-whiteys on some and at least six completely nude! Daniel quickly stepped back into the surgery and rapidly fanned himself with his hand. "Be still my heart!" he groaned as the flush of lust coursed through his body. "I'm a doctor! A doctor!"

Calming, Daniel squared his shoulders and opened the door again. He looked around and his resolve to maintain his professionalism evaporated. On the deck, not two feet away, a large, gloriously handsome, blond young man, naked as the day he was born, sat, his legs splayed, his ample genitals hanging ponderously toward the scarred wooden floor. Beside him, equally naked, was an obviously shorter, boyish-looking man with dark brown, almost black hair, ruggedly good looking. Where the blond was all but hairless except for his darker coloured pubes, this man had a solid crop of black hair in the middle of his chest that continued down his stomach to form a wide treasure trail that led downward to a forest of pubic hair that surrounded a decent set of fittings. This man, unlike the blond, was circumcised. Beside the dark-haired man sat a slim-bodied man with dark blond hair, older, and wearing tighty-whiteys. He had a broad, thin-lipped, square-jawed face. Beside him sat a scrawny redhead, looking too young to be away from the farm. His thin face still bore the last vestiges of teenage acne. He was wearing a baggy pair of GI issue boxers. Each held a thin folder - his medical "chart".

Thad, who had seen the doctor emerge, came forward and gestured toward the blond. "You're up, MacGregor." He addressed the doctor, "We've finished the preliminary work on these guys."

Rob Roy MacGregor, all six foot six inches of him, rose to tower over Daniel. He scratched himself and grinned. Daniel, his heart racing, gestured impatiently for the giant to come into the surgery.

Briefly scanning the sheet of paper that MacGregor had handed him, Daniel saw that the man was a Scot, born in a small village in Ayreshire, was 26 years old and had served with the Scots Guards. Daniel noted that MacGregor's height, weight, blood pressure and pulse were all within the normal parameters of a man his age.

Daniel picked up a tongue depressor and ordered, "Open wide." Once again, nothing out of the ordinary, although the Scotsman's teeth needed attention. He made a note and pulled on a rubber glove. Holding up his hand he said, "You know what comes next?"

Groaning, MacGregor turned, bent over and spread his butt cheeks. In a broad, rolling burr, he said, "Och, aye, tha' auld finger wave!"

"You must have your prostate examined," said Daniel, maintaining his profession mien. "Now keep still."

Daniel had performed this procedure countless times and he slowly inserted his finger into MacGregor's tight anus. MacGregor grunted at the intrusion but made no comment. Daniel's fingertip found the hard gland and he poked it gently. This had an immediate affect on the Scotsman, who moaned quietly. Smiling, Daniel gave MacGregor's prostate two more little rubs and then withdrew his finger. Pretending not to notice that the Scotsman's penis had thickened ever so slightly from the stimulation, Daniel patted the examination table. "On your back, please."

Not in the least embarrassed, for this happened to him every time he'd been examined, MacGregor hopped on the table and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. Daniel immediately began probing MacGregor's groin. "No hernias," he noted unnecessarily. He then cupped the Scotsman's large, oval testicles, rolling them gently in his hand.

MacGregor darted a glance at the doctor, smiled inwardly and closed his eyes. This had happened before. He felt his penis hardening, and slowly opened his legs slightly, to give the doctor more room for his "examination".

Daniel began panting softly as he watched MacGregor's thick penis grow longer, twitching and rising gently. The light purple head began to peek out of the fold of skin covering it. MacGregor sighed contentedly as Daniel helped his erection along by slowly retracting the foreskin and baring what was, in Daniel's opinion, as fine a specimen of a glans corona as he'd seen in years. "A nice, loose foreskin," he forced himself to say. "Any problems?"

"Ach, nae," responded MacGregor, whose penis was now standing tall and straight, nine plus inches of good Scottish beef. "Wee Rob Roy works a treat, so he does!"

Daniel did not comment. Rob Roy might work a treat but it was definitely not wee! He left off fondling MacGregor and reached for a Q-Tip. He ran the small cotton ball around the rim of MacGregor's glans and nodded.

"Mon, it's as clean as an Edinburgh virgin," protested MacGregor. "I shower every day!"

"I'm sure you do," replied Daniel, who was now perspiring. He saw a small drop of crystal ooze from the meatus of MacGregor's penis. Without thinking, he slowly wiped the viscous fluid away.

MacGegor's penis bounced at the doctor's touch. "Will ye be wantin' a semen sample?" he asked huskily. He reached down and gently squeezed his manhood.

Daniel could not resist a "natural" man. He began lowering his head. "Only if I can get it from the source," he said.

Outside the surgery the men waiting exchanged glances as a series of low grunts, moans and groans seeped through the thin walls. The next man in line, his boyish face flushed, listened and shook his head, drawling in a tight-lipped, slightly nasal, Western twang. "Jeezus! That sounds like when my Daddy puts the rams in with the ewes!"

"Too right, mate," replied the darker haired man next to him. "It sounds like a booze-up on Bondi!" He looked down at his white briefs. "Mebe I should have worn me AussieBums!" He saw the quizzical looks on the faces of his companions and grinned. "It's a bathing suit, sort of like a Speedo, only cut lower." He chuckled. "It shows off your bum and old Percy like you wouldn't believe!"

Both the first man and the redhead glanced down at the Australian's crotch. What they saw led them both to believe that there wasn't much Aussie "Percy" to show off.

"Your what?" the redhead asked. He too could hear the noise coming from the surgery and unconsciously dropped his hand into his lap. A loud, high-pitched grunt shook the three men. "Fuck, what's he doing in there?"

The first man, who didn't know if the redhead was referring to the doctor or the Scotsman, shrugged. "How old are you?" he asked with emphasis.

The redhead looked embarrassed. "Um, old enough." He reached out his hand. "Sam Jones, and yes, that's my real name and I do not like being called 'Red'!"

The first man nodded and shook the proffered hand, reaching across the man beside him to do so. "Jake Guildenhall. You ex-Army, Rusty?"

Sighing and knowing that he would be called "Rusty" now, no matter how loudly he protested Sam shook his head. "USN. You?"

"Marines. Marine Artillery, actually," replied Jake. He turned to the man beside him. "You're Australian?"

"Yup," replied the man, who had a wide face and thin lips. "Born and bred on a sheep farm in the outback." He wiggled his nose. "Sheep don't smell all that good, so I joined the RAN." What he did not add was that his branch of the RAN was the equivalent of the US Navy SEALS. He grinned lopsidedly. "Heath Bookman."

"My daddy has a ranch in Wyomin' sheep country," offered Jake. "Goddam they sure do stink."

The silence from the surgery was deafening. Rusty looked around and pressed his ear against the wall. "I can't hear anything."

"That didn't take long," observed Heath as he reached down to twig the round, mushroomed-shaped head of "Percy" hidden under his white cotton briefs. "I always thought that Scotsmen had more staying power."

Rusty rolled his eyes. He knew nothing about the staying power of Scotsmen, and damned little about the staying power of anyone else! Jake's smouldering, brown eyes darkened. "If that dickhead touches me I'll deck him!" he muttered ominously. The surgery door opened and Jake stood up. He was stocky, with well-defined chest and legs. He looked down at Heath. "I mean it."

MacGregor all but staggered from the surgery. "Ach, mon, I cannae hardly walk!" he growled, smiling broadly.

Jake, Heath and Rusty saw that Rob Roy's body was flushed pink. His penis, while soft, seemed smaller and very wrinkled. There was a small drop of what was obviously semen hanging from the barely exposed head.

Heath's mouth smiled thinly. "Maybe he only likes Percys with skin." He glanced at Jake. "Or not so hairy." He nudged Rusty. "I'm safe on both counts. How about you?"

Rusty, who was not as naïve as he looked, muttered, "Yeah, I'm okay there." He looked up at Jake. "I wish I had more hair, though!"

For the first time Jake laughed. "Maybe the doctor's partial to redheads! How would you like that?"

Rusty shuddered involuntarily. "Please God, let him stick to foreskins and blonds!"

At that moment Thad began yelling at Rob Roy to get some clothes on his ass and to get said ass across the road to the Supply Section for kitting out. The doctor, apparently recovered from his "examining" Rob Roy MacGregor, stuck his head out of the surgery door. He looked Jake up and down. "Come on then, you're next!"

Reluctantly following the doctor, Jake cupped his parts protectively. "Dead," he muttered. "Dead!"

Heath and Rusty exchanged looks as Jake disappeared into the surgery. They listened intently but heard nothing out of the ordinary. Jake came out looking relieved. "Well?" asked Heath.

"He gave me a finger wave, felt my balls and said that since I was circumcised so high and tight - whatever the fuck that means - I should always use a lubricant when I masturbate or have sex!"

"He didn't!" laughed Heath. He opened the front of his tighty-whiteys and pulled them down, revealing a very thick, but short, penis with a firm roll of skin directly behind the pink head. "Looks like the old doc left me a little!" he said.

Rusty opened the front of his baggy shorts. "Um, will we get time to go into town, or is there a PX here?"

"Why?" asked Heath, ostentatiously looking down into Rusty's shorts. "Oh."

Jake looked as well. He saw a long, very thing, rosy circumcised penis drooping out of the reddest crop of pubic hair he'd ever seen.

Rusty quickly covered himself. "So I ran out of lube!" he said. "A guy can run out of lube!"

Before either Jake or Heath could reply, Thad shouted, "Guildenhall! Get your ass in gear. Bookman, you're holding up the line. Move it!"

Heath smiled at Jake. "Looks like my turn to give the doc a thrill!"

Jake joined Rob Roy MacGregor in Clothing stores where he was kitted out with everything he would need as member of the Outside Security Force. Unlike the military, the garments they were issued actually came near to fitting them.

"You supply your own underwear," the storesman said. "You can buy extra socks and underpants in the canteen. It's subsidized so you won't pay an arm and a leg."

Heath came in wearing a sagging pair of sweat pants. Jake winked at him. "So, how did it go?"

"Aye, did he ask ye for a semen sample?" interrupted Rob Roy. He glanced at the storesman who was busy rummaging through some trousers, looking for a pair that would fit Heath.

"He did not! He looked at me and said that I was loosely circumcised, which was good and that I would thank the doctor when I got older. I guess that means my dick will grow."

Rob Roy laughed. "Nae, laddie, you're done growin'." He leaned in and asked, "So the mon dinnae do anything?"

"Not a thing," said Heath.

"Too bad for he gives a mean blow job!" exclaimed Rob Roy.

Before Heath could reply Rusty came in. He looked at the other men and ostentatiously wiped his forehead. "Never said a word. Just poked and felt a bit." He grinned. "I guess he likes older guys."

"Or blonds and foreskins," replied Heath with a laugh. He looked Rob Roy up and down. "Or big Scotsmen!"

Doctor Bradley-Smith signed off on the latest recruit and sighed unhappily. Since examining Rob Roy MacGregor, whose taste still lingered at the back of his throat he had examined only one "natural" man, who while he was endowed, had exuded a most offensive odour, a mixture of urine and semen and smegma that Daniel found quite stomach churning. The man also reminded him of the "masters" back at the Dallas Street brothel. The man, a German, had been given a stern lecture on personal hygiene and sent on his way, although Daniel could not help noticing that he had a very plump behind, quite easy to look at as he exited the surgery.

The morning was only half over and Daniel had examined roughly twenty men. All were young, all were decent looking enough, and all had possessed normal-sized genitalia. Tempting, perhaps as an appetizer, but not as the main course. He had tried to maintain a professional mien, but if the truth were told he was getting decidedly antsy. So many naked bodies had kept Daniel in a constant state of excitement, so much so that he had been forced to retire into the adjacent bathroom with a small handful of surgical swabs. Refreshed, but not satisfied, he had returned to the examinations.

Daniel was also worried about reporting in. He had at first thought to ring Diem and tell him what was going on. Then he decided that it was better to report in person. He could break away for lunch, be downtown in half an hour or so, make his report and return. He remembered, too, that he was required at a special ceremony scheduled for later in the afternoon, followed by a formal dinner. Time was running out!

What Daniel did not know was that Michael had given both Thad and Jude strict instructions to keep the doctor in the surgery as long as possible. Michael had despatched Logan Hartsfield to Victoria. He had finally managed to pry Cousin Tommy away from Joel, who had work to do in the mansion, and had sent Tommy down to the docks. Michael believed in long-term, careful planning and he needed the doctor to delay his report as long as possible. Michael needed time, and Thad and Jude were his instruments of delay.

Thad had removed the telephone from the office, and Jude had dilly-dallied when doing the preliminary examinations. They had been told that the doctor was homosexual, and basically without morals or scruples. It had not taken long for word of what the doctor had done to Rob Roy to filter back to Jude, who grinned and thought that if he sent the best looking, and obviously endowed recruits into the surgery the doctor would succumb to temptation. They did not know of the doctor's particular affection for "natural" men, however, and could not quite figure out why there had been no delays to speak of.

"Well, I'm damned if I can figure it out," said Jude in exasperation as he watched the next recruit enter the surgery - it was the German. "We've sent him guys with normal-sized dicks, small dicks and big dicks and he hasn't touched one of them!"

The German re-entered the main hall and another man entered the room. Thad motioned for the German to come forward. He took the chart that Daniel had annotated and scanned it. "What's this?" he asked as he pointed to the scribbled note: "Subject to be cautioned regarding personal hygiene."

The German, whose name was Bruno Bengt Lagerberg, scowled. He was a very proud man, formerly of the German Army's Grenzschutzgruppe-9, a highly trained, highly selective organization. Lagerberg had been one of only 50 elite selected to be a part of GSG-9/3, the Airborne Unit of GSG-9. He had grown tired of the ingrained anti-Semitism that still prevailed in Germany and, as he was homosexual, fearful of the rampant homophobia that infected the Western half of Germany, and when his enlistment was up he had immigrated to Canada. He had been the best of the best - one of the most feared counter terrorism units in the world, and some jumped up pecker checker had insulted his manhood.

"The Herr Doktor felt that I was not clean in my person," growled Lagerberg.

"So he didn't try anything?"

"Nein, I mean no." Lagerberg thought carefully. "He examined me at the back, then he felt my groin. Then he felt my hoden, um, mein bälle, my testes."

"That's all?"

Lagerberg shook his head. "No. He, what is the word, ah, yes, he fondled my testes and squeezed my . . ." He struggled to remember the proper word, " . . . Ach, ya, my penis."

Jude looked thoughtful. "Okay, what else?"

Lagerberg turned red with embarrassment. "I report that I started to become excited. At the point the Herr Doktor pulled down my fore piece and . . ."

"You are not . . .?" Thad asked, his voice trailing off. He looked at Jude. "How the hell do you say 'circumcised' in German?"

Lagerberg did not need to translate. He knew what Thad was asking. "No, I am not."

"Then what happened?" asked Thad.

"The Herr Doktor felt that I was not clean, that I had not cleaned myself good enough." He dropped his head. "I regret to report that I did not shower this morning. Usually I am quite clean."

Jude scratched his chin. "But, if you had been clean, do you think that the doctor might have . . .?"

Nodding his head, Lagerberg replied, "I believe he would have, um, taken an interest."

Thad told Lagerberg to go and shower and then report to Clothing Stores. He walked back to the table and began reading through a small pile of papers. "What are you looking for?" asked Jude.

"The original medical examinations, the ones that were done in New York. Ah, here we are." Thad began scanning each piece of paper, his eyes automatically looking for a particular checkmark against a particular line in the medical report. When he was finished he had set three of the reports aside.

"What?" asked a thoroughly confused Jude.

"Jude, each medical was very thorough," replied Thad. He looked around the room and saw one of the men he was looking for. "Mark-Paul Groesselaar!" he yelled.

A tall, slim, sleekly muscled blond man jerked his head and raised his hand. He had clear blue eyes and was handsome to the point of prettiness.

"Jesus Javier Lopez," Thad yelled.

A slim, dark-skinned, ebony-haired man raised his hand.

"James Hugh Jackman!"

A tall, muscular man with brown hair nodded.

"Front and centre, and line up," ordered Thad.

All three men fell in.

"Okay, pull open your shorts," Thad ordered. When the men had done as ordered he peered first into Groesselaar's tighty-whiteys, then Lopez's white boxers and then Jackman's dark blue briefs. He turned to Jude, smiled, and said, "Take a look."

Jude looked.

"What did you see?"

Jude rolled his eyes. "Dicks!" He peered down the front of Lopez's shorts again. "And the biggest set of balls I've ever seen!"

"It's not his balls the doctor wants!" said Thad. He looked at Lopez and continued, "But I'm sure they'll help." He smiled at the three confused men. "Okay, first, close the hatches. Go and take a shower and then come back. We are going to talk!"

As the three men walked away Thad grinned at Jude. "I think I know what to do."

"You do?"

"I do."

The telephone rang and Jude answered. He listened and then looked around. "Okay, we'll handle it," he said into the telephone. He hung up the phone. "Ned wants some more men to help him in the exercise."

"So, send him some. The ones who are finished are probably in the mess hall eating lunch. Call over there."

"Anyone in particular?" asked Jude.

Thad was carefully arranging the files into three piles. "Better yet, call the Sergeant-Major and tell him. Let him sort it out."