Aurora Tapestry

AURORA TAPESTRY is the third book in a series. It chronicles the lives and times of a group of men and teenage boys living in an age and an environment where being gay was to be despised, maligned and scorned. It is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, is purely coincidental.

My writing reflects the customs, mores, traditions, prejudices and attitudes of the times. The year is 1976 and it was a different world. Some of the attitudes will no doubt offend those who are so determinedly politically correct that they are unable to conceive that others might have a different opinion or outlook. Others are so Liberal in their thinking that they make Hillary Clinton look like Attila the Hen! And then there are those that are into "causes". Please, do not write me hooting and hollering about your cause, prejudices, preferences or whatever. I am not into causes. I AM a grumpy old sailor and I do not suffer fools gladly. Be warned.

IN 1976 the AIDS pandemic was only just infecting North America. Condoms were used primarily to prevent pregnancy and gay men never gave a thought to having sex with a condom. Do not, I beg you, let what was common in 1976 influence your conduct today. Always practice safe sex.

As my writings detail scenarios of gay sex - tastefully, I hope - in sometimes graphic detail, I must warn that in some states, provinces, cities and towns reading, possessing, downloading, etc., is illegal, or if you are not of legal age to read, possess, download, etc., works of erotica, please move on.

I apologize to all my readers for the lengthy delay in posting this latest chapter. As many of you know, I have been receiving radiation treatments and while I am improving, the side effects have been and are debilitating. I have good days, I have bad days. On the good days I write.

I have also been correcting the galleys for my first novel, The Phantom of AURORA. Volume I has been corrected and is now in the hands of my publisher. Volume II will follow shortly and I will let you all know when it is available.

I thank all of you who wrote expressing your love and concern. I appreciate and humbly accept those who sent their prayers and good wishes.

To Peter, my special thanks, who wears so many hats yet always finds time to edit and help make what I write better. BZ

I enjoy hearing from my readers. Please contact me at paradegi@rogers.com

I respond to all e-mails (except flames, which are sent to that great File 13 in cyberspace.

Yours Aye

John

The Phantom of AURORA - Chapter 8

Toronto sweltered in the early morning sun. The humidity permeated every structure, turning rooms and chambers into sweat boxes. The Gunner awoke with a start. He was covered with sweat, as was Ace, who was lying beside him, his arm wrapped around The Gunner's chest. Staring at the white, plastered ceiling of Ace's bedroom, The Gunner wrinkled his nose. The room, the sheets, smelled of sex and sweat and male!

Struggling into a sitting position, The Gunner shook the sleep and fog from his brain. He glanced at Ace, who was snoring softly. Ace was a supremely handsome young man and as The Gunner watched, Ace stretched and reached down to scratch at his sleeping genitals. His penis was still flushed from the sex they'd had half the night. "God," thought The Gunner, "what a night!"

Leaving the bed, The Gunner walked into the bathroom, urinated, shaved, and then turned on the shower. As he washed, The Gunner mulled over in his mind all that had happened to him. Foremost in his thoughts was his relationship with Ace. A long time ago The Gunner had told The Phantom that he never just slept with somebody. He had to feel something for his partner. There had to be something about any man The Gunner slept with, something that was intangible and unique, an indefinable attraction that defied description. Ace was such a man and The Gunner had no regrets about sleeping with him. Ace was sensual, sensuous, and a wonderful lover. He was also witty, intelligent, house-trained and dressed well. Ace was, in short, the type of man who, had he come wandering down the pike a few months ago, The Gunner would have fallen in love with, and been happy with. Ace was everything another man could want, and The Gunner knew it. He also knew that try as he might, he could not fall in love with Acton Grimes. That little spark, that minute something, simply was not there.

The Gunner did not want to hurt Ace. He liked him, and hoped that they would be friends. He would, he knew, from time to time, sleep with Ace. But he could not live the rest of his life with Ace. The Gunner was in love with Phantom and always would be. Nothing could ever change the way they felt about each other, and no one could ever come between them.

Then there was the Order. The Gunner knew instinctively that he would be called upon to give more and more of his time to the Order. Chef had told him to take a year off, to get away from the Navy and The Gunner thought that Chef was right. It was time to distance himself, if only for a little while - a year or two at most - from the thing he loved above everything else in his life. The Gunner knew that he was jaded, fed up with the way the Navy was going, the hypocrisy of the admirals and generals in Ottawa making his stomach churn. He could not at the moment make a difference. He knew that. He also knew that he could make a difference with the Order. He would, he thought, devote more and more time to the Order's business. It was time to move on.

Lost in thought, The Gunner did not hear the glass door to the shower being pulled slowly open, nor did he see the sly smile on Ace's face as he entered the enclosed cubicle. The Gunner felt Ace's tongue slowly course a path up the nape of his neck and squirmed. Ace slid his hands around The Gunner's chest and began to fondle his nipples. The Gunner could feel Ace's erection pressing expectantly against his butt crack. He began to turn slowly, smiling as his hands drifted down to cup Ace's testicles. "I thought the cat was out for the night," he said with a grinning whisper.

"The cat came back," returned Ace as he slowly lowered his body and knelt before The Gunner. As he took The Gunner's stiffening member into his mouth, Ace growled, "Meow!"

Ace had never had a lover such as the man who was gently thrusting into his body. Ace raised his hips to meet his lover's thrusting and felt his orgasm building deep within his body. He tightened his hold on The Gunner as his turgid organ throbbed and jerked, sending stream after stream of semen shooting between their bodies. Ace's eyes rolled back and a low, desperate growl rose from his throat as his orgasm exploded, sending rolling waves of indescribable pleasure through his body.

The Gunner felt Ace's eruption and thrust harshly, unable to prevent the inevitable, glorious ending to their lovemaking. His lips found Ace's and they kissed passionately until the last, spasmodic jerks of The Gunner's hips ceased. Drained, The Gunner buried his face in the valley of Ace's shoulder, breathing harshly. He tried to pull out, but Ace would not allow it. "No," Ace commanded loudly, "Stay in me, Steve, please, stay in me!"

They continued to rock gently for several minutes, each giving the other rippling, miniature spasms of pleasure. Ace could feel the soft hairs of The Gunner's treasure trail rubbing against the underside of his still-hard penis and groaned. Ace knew that he was being selfish, but didn't care. A moan escaped Ace's lips as the spongy head of The Gunner's penis brushed against his prostate. Once again he thrust his hips upward to meet The Gunner's and once again his penis erupted. The Gunner shuddered, threw his head back and growled as his own orgasm enveloped him.

When, finally, Ace released him, The Gunner lay back, the sound of his husky, laboured breathing filling the room. When his breathing was once again under control The Gunner turned and smiled at Ace. Words seemed so inadequate for what Ace had given him and a smile could not begin to express The Gunner's gratitude.

Ace saw the strange look on The Gunner's face and asked, "What?"

Shaking his head slowly, The Gunner replied, "I just don't know what to say! How do I say what I feel, how can I . . ."

Placing two fingers against The Gunner's lips, Ace shook his head. "We made love, we had, for a brief moment, each other. You don't have to express anything to me, Steve."

The Gunner threw his legs over the edge of the bed. He stared into nothingness and then, over his shoulder, said, "Ace, you know that what we have isn't going to last."

"I know." Ace rolled away and reached over to snag the pack of cigarettes on the night table. "You made that clear and you know what? I'll take what I can get." He lit a cigarette for each of them and handed one to The Gunner. "I could get to like having you beside me permanently. But that's not about to happen. Your love is in British Columbia, and I understand that." He leaned back against the headboard of the bed. "Let's just play things as they play, okay? Let's just make some memories."

"It seems so unfair to you, Ace," replied The Gunner sadly.

"Why unfair?" asked Ace calmly. "I walked into our relationship with my eyes wide open. I knew when I set out to get you into my bed that we would never be a couple. Our relationship is fleeting, and I accept that."

"I wish, for your sake, that it were otherwise," returned The Gunner.

"Well, don't!" Ace got out of bed and pulled The Gunner to his feet. "Steve, I'll always love you, and I'll always want to be with you. Don't feel sorry for me, please. Just promise me that maybe once in a while we can be together."

Smiling, The Gunner nodded his head. "I think that can be arranged."

"Good," replied Ace. "Now that that is settled let's talk about something unpleasant, like what we are going to do about this business with paedophiles, and boys."

"We have to arrange to meet Troubridge," said The Gunner as he led Ace out onto the balcony. Far below they could hear the morning traffic honking and grinding. In the distance a siren wailed, followed by the bleat of an air horn as a pumper from the Toronto Fire Department navigated its way through the jam of vehicles clogging Bloor Street.

"I'll give him a call," said Ace as he settled onto one of the chairs. "If he's as anxious as Laurence made him out to be, Troubridge would want to meet as soon as possible." He frowned. "I think we also have to think about money, Steve."

The Gunner left the railing and sat down beside Ace. "I have some cash, but not enough, I'm thinking."

"I have some money as well, and I can always hit my father up for a loan," replied Ace.

"There are the jewels," The Gunner pointed out. "They have to be worth something."

Ace thought a moment. "We have to be careful where we place them, Steve. Your uncle is an asshole and if he finds out about your inheritance . . ."

The Gunner's face grew stony. "Uncle Edward can be dealt with, Ace."

"You're not suggesting . . ." began Ace.

"I suggest nothing," replied The Gunner. "All I am saying is that if Uncle Edward tries to interfere with my business, with the business of the Order, he will be dealt with."

Ace thought it best not to pursue just how The Gunner's uncle would be dealt with. He was seeing Steve Winslow's darker side and did not like it at all. "I think it best if we contact the Livadian Hassids," he said. "There is a temple in Kensington."

The Gunner nodded his agreement. "We can't do anything until Monday." He scratched his chin, thinking. "Today is Saturday, which is the Jewish Sabbath. Tomorrow is Sunday, and the Lord's Day Act does not recognize Jewish businesses as being essential to the community on a Sunday."

"It would if they were selling booze rather than diamonds," observed Ace drolly.

"Yes, well, be that as it may, we will wait until Monday," said The Gunner firmly. "Arrange to meet with Troubridge sometime this evening." He tapped the small table with his fingers. "Make it after 10:00pm, Ace." He gave his lover a weak smile. "Sorry, I'm giving orders," he said. "Force of habit."

Ace waved aside The Gunner's words. "You're the Chancellor, and you're the man who has to wear it. Michael is depending on you, so order away. I am but a servant of the Lord!"

Laughing, The Gunner tapped Ace's bare knee. "You will never be that, Ace. Mind you, it's nice to have a servant around the house."

"This is my house," Ace pointed out blandly. "And if I wanted a servant I would go downstairs and wave a finger at Lester and . . ."

"Like that?" asked The Gunner, pointing at Ace's naked body.

"Holy shit!" exclaimed Ace. He jumped to his feet and waved nervously at the building across the street. "Steve, we're naked! Shit, man, if someone sees us we'll get busted for indecent exposure."

"There is nothing indecent in what I see," replied The Gunner mildly. "But, you are right. Lets go inside."

Inside the apartment The Gunner decided to make breakfast. He opened the refrigerator to find a whole lot of . . . nothing. Ace could barely boil water, did no shopping, and either ate take away or in a café or restaurant. Grumbling, The Gunner pulled on some clothes and went downstairs. There was a small convenience store on the ground floor and when he returned he was laden with eggs, bacon, tomatoes, bread, cream and coffee.

In the small kitchenette, The Gunner set about preparing breakfast. Ace watched, fascinated, as The Gunner set the coffee to percolating, cracked eggs, fried bacon and toasted bread and when a plate of bacon and eggs, garnished with tomatoes, was set before him he smiled and set to with a will. "You know, Steve, you are going to make some man very happy."

The Gunner joined Ace at the counter top table and poured the coffee. He waggled his eyebrows at Ace as he said, "I have a man, thank you." Impulsively, he leaned forward and kissed Ace. "And I have you."

Ace felt himself blushing and grinning the most foolish smile he had ever grinned in his life. Goddamn, did Steve make him feel good! "God, Steve, if only you meant that!"

"I do," The Gunner assured Ace. "I like you, I think you're a good man to have around and I enjoy being with you. I also enjoy helping you make memories."

Chuckling, Ace returned to eating his breakfast. As he ate, Ace began to think about just how he would present certain decisions Michael had made to The Gunner. Steve Winslow was in love with a young man, a young man who figured large in Michael's plans. Ace understood Michael's reasoning, but was not at all sure that Steve would approve. Still, the matter had to be addressed.

When he finished eating, Ace left the kitchenette and went into the bedroom. He returned wearing his ring. The Gunner's eyebrows arched slightly and he recognized the significance of the ring. Ace was about to impart something important. The Gunner did, however, have to smile slyly as he wondered what Michael would say if he knew that Ace was conducting the Order's business wearing nothing but the ring.

Ace saw The Gunner's smile and frowned. "Steve, there's something about to happen that I think you should know about," he said formally. "It involves your boys."

"My boys?" asked The Gunner as he slowly lowered himself onto a stool. "What have my boys to do with . . .?"

"Steve, Michael Chan has issued a special remainder to the Rule of the Order." Ace began to nervously stir his coffee, which had grown cold. "You have to understand, Steve, that . . ."

The Gunner reached out and took Ace's hand in his. "Ace, just tell me," he said quietly.

Nodding, Ace looked at his lover. "Steve, Michael has lowered the age for becoming a candidate knight to thirteen and a half. He is also prepared to grant knighthoods to half the boys on that list of candidates that you gave him."

The Gunner's face drained of colour. "Ace, that can't happen," he said forcefully. "Why, most of those boys are barely into their teens! All right, there are a few, Tyler Benbow and Val Orsini, yes, and the two American boys, Mark van Beck and Tony Valpone, but damn it, two of the boys, Randy Lowndes and Joey Pelham, they barely have hair one above their dicks!" He shook his head. "Michael cannot be serious!"

Ace sighed heavily. "Steve, Michael is very serious. He does not know how far the rot has infected the Order. He wants to clean house and he wants to put paid to the ring of paedophiles. To do that he needs Knights! He needs people he can trust." He looked levelly at The Gunner. "And that includes your Phantom."

The Gunner's jaw dropped. "Phantom, Philip, is just a boy," he snapped.

"A boy who will be in the first rank," returned Ace. "And well you know it!"

The Gunner ran his hand across his face. "Yes," he whispered for he knew that Phantom would be the first to stand up and fight, be the first to take up the gauntlet. Abruptly he stood up and regarded Ace. "I need to talk to Michael," he said. "Do you mind if I use your telephone?"

Shaking his head, Ace left the kitchenette and walked into the bedroom where he dressed. He turned to The Gunner and grinned evilly. "I think I'll go downstairs and flash my caboose at Lester. He'll be in heaven for a week."

The Gunner knew that Ace was leaving so that he could speak with Michael in private. He returned Ace's smile and said, not all in jest, "Make sure that's all you flash at him!"

Laughing, Ace growled, "Meow," and left the apartment.

The Gunner seemed paler when he joined Ace in the café. He slid into the booth and shook his head. Lester/Lance swished by, not bothering to hide his jealousy. The Gunner barely noticed him.

Ace gestured for Lester to bring more coffee and when the waiter had departed looked at The Gunner. "You spoke with Michael?" he asked.

Nodding, The Gunner replied, "Yes." His hand shook a little as he spooned some sugar into his coffee. "He's determined to destroy those who betrayed the Order. He's using his contacts in Chinatown, and in other places. He has gone to war, Ace, and my boys are to be his warriors."

Ace nodded slowly, and then said sympathetically, "Michael has enough enforcers to do the dirty work, if it comes down to that. I'm sure he will make sure that the boys to not go in harm's way."

Laughing bitterly, The Gunner shook his head. "You don't know my Phantom! If he gets wind of Michael's plans he'll be the first to take up arms! And if Phantom goes to war, then everybody else will go with him!" He began to recite the names of the Boys of Aurora, "Cory, Todd, Harry, Matt," he murmured slowly. "All of them will follow!"

A thoughtful look came across Ace's face. "Well, they can't follow your Phantom too far, now, can they? They're all in Comox, and the action is here in Toronto and Montreal. I can't see Michael sending your boys across the country, especially when he has you here."

"Pardon?"

"Steve, you are the Champion of the Order," explained Ace. "You are going to have to make some hard decisions. When everything is said and done you are going to have to help Michael plan his strategy and you, as you said, know that Michael will wreak havoc on all who oppose him. What did you say? Oh, yes, it could get messy!"

"It will," affirmed The Gunner. "He will use the Tsangs. They have no mercy in them."

"And you do?" Ace signalled Lester for the bill. "We had better hit the road. There is still the viewing."

As The Gunner slid out of the booth he looked frostily at Ace. "I will have no mercy, Ace. I know that is the way it must be. As for the boys, well, Michael will never send them out."

"Too true," agreed Ace as they left the café. In the elevator he said, "The boys are safe, Steve. Even Michael has to realize that they're much too young to be of help."

The Gunner laughed quietly. "Thank God for that! They're safe and sound in AURORA and that is exactly where they should be."

"Why, Steve," said Ace as he unlocked the door to his apartment "Do I detect a certain, paternalism?"

"You detect nothing," sniffed The Gunner. "The boys might think that they're hot stuff, but I assure you I will do everything I can to keep them boys! They are not experienced in life and they are much too young to be exposed to what is coming."

"They're experienced enough," returned Ace. He settled on the sofa in the living room. "They're experienced enough to be considered as Knights of the Order."

"Only because they're gay!" replied The Gunner. "The boys cannot be considered! Michael might set loose the dogs of war, but my boys will not be a part of it!"

A wry smile crossed Ace's face. "Boys have a way of growing up fast," he pointed out. "Especially in wartime."

The Gunner shook his head. "What they don't know about won't hurt them," he declared firmly. "In a few years, maybe they'll be what Michael wants them to be, warrior Knights. Right now, they're boys and that is all I want them to be."

"Michael might have something to say about that," observed Ace dryly as he opened the door to the apartment.

"PHAAANTTTOOOMMM!"

Calvin Hobbes' scream of terror as the flaming fir covered four of his friends and fellow cadets galvanized the stunned cadets. Harry, who had been standing on the foc'sle of Exeter handing down axes and blankets, went white, and then leaped into the shallow water. He yelled at the stunned Reserve engineer who had been detailed off to man the portable pump, "Flash that fucker up!" Then he reached out and grabbed Calvin, who had a death grip on the second hose attached to the pump. "Let's go, boychick!"

As Harry thundered sloppily up the beach, pandemonium threatened to break out all along the beach. Tyler, Val, Mark and Tony, as the senior ratings, pushed and pummelled the cadets into line, ordering them to carry on with their firefighting. Only the ingrained discipline kept the cadets from stampeding to the now dying pyre of fir tree under which lay their dearest friends.

Todd, his heart beating, joined Harry's race. Phantom . . . Phantom was under that fire! And Matt. Behind Todd, Cory, a portable fire extinguisher in his arms, kept pace with his brother. Andy and Kyle snatched up blankets and struggled through the sand of the beach.

"Go!" screamed Colin at Two Strokes and Steve. His heart was pounding and it took every ounce of his self-control not to rush to up the beach himself. "Please, God," he whispered frantically, "Please don't let him die! Please, please, God, don't take him from me! I just found him and please don't take him from me!" He continued to wave cadets toward the fire line and despatch extra hands to where the fir tree sent a massive plume of white smoke into the still air. Colin, as Beach Master, could not leave his post no matter how much he wanted to, and he could not scream his frustration and fear of losing Phantom.

As Harry neared the fast burning tree he dropped Calvin with a loud thump, snatched up the fire hose and pulled back the handle, sending a 2-inch stream of water over the tree. "Hold on to the hose, Calvin," he shouted as he played the stream of water over the fire. "Cory, Todd, beat the fucker out!"

From the beach came more shouts and a second pump was manhandled over the side of Ajax's Zodiac and flashed up. While Cory and Todd beat at the fire, Stuart, Jon, Chris and Nicholas dragged hoses forward. With two pumps thumping rhythmically, pumping water into the long lengths of hose, they rushed forward.

Each boy, as he fought what he thought was the fire that would bring their worlds crashing down, prayed, swore, yelled at each other and sent prayers to heaven for the safety of their friends. Sandro, sweating and cursing in Russian, beat at the fire, sending sparks and burning pinecones in all directions. Steve, whose handsome features were sweat and soot-streaked, joined him.

"They're dead!" Steve yelled over and over again.

"Nyet!" bellowed Sandro in reply. "Nyet! Nyet!"

As the cadets struggled to put out the fire and remove the massive tree, the pumps continued to thump. In a way, the pumps saved Phantom, Matt, Joey and Randy. As he went down under Phantom's weight, Joey had inadvertently fallen on the fire hose that he and Randy had been unrolling, pushing the handle to the open position. Harry's bellowed order to start the pump sent a stream of seawater rushing through the hose, spraying and soaking both young boys. What also saved them were the thick, massive branches of the tree, which, while they burned fiercely, kept the crushing weight of the tree trunk and much of the searing fire away from the four cadets. The B suits that The Phantom and Matt wore, thick canvas, cumbersome jackets and pants, protected them as they, in turn, protected Randy and Joey from the intense, radiant heat.

The needles of the tree, old and dry, flashed into flame and disappeared almost immediately in a cloud of black smoke, roaring upward and away from the small, cave-like void over the four boys created by the outward curving branches of the tree. Phil Thornton, mad with fear, clawed and pulled at the tree, oblivious to the fires that still smouldered. He cared nothing for the damage he might be doing to his hands. His whole being, his every thought, was for the two boys hidden beneath the ancient, blackened, charred branches. Randy and Joey, Makee Learns, Brats, seducers of big-dicked Chiefs, his loves, his life, were in danger and Phil cared nothing for his own safety.

Pausing only to strip off his jumper, Phil wrapped it around his hands. "Grab on!" he shrieked, "Lift it off of them!"

Todd and Cory, Stuart and half a dozen other boys mimicked Phil. Harry dropped the hose and ran to the end of the tree and lifted the still steaming, hot trunk. "Lift, you fuckers!" he ordered. Andy and Kyle joined Harry and together they lifted the trunk, charred, soot blackened, and bare in patches, up an away from the quiet bodies that lay beneath the wreckage of the tree.

"Oh, fuck!" breathed Andy at the sight of The Phantom and Matt sprawled atop two smaller bodies.

"Rannnddddeee . . . Joooeee . . ." wailed Phil. He dropped to his knees and tried to lift The Phantom up. "Please, Jesus, God, no! Please, God, Nooooooo!"

Kyle knelt beside Matt, who was spitting something out of his mouth. The Phantom, who was only stunned from the blow of the tree on his back, wiggled and squirmed. Suddenly, much to everyone's amazement, Randy's high-pitched voice shattered the funereal air. "God damn, it, Phantom, stop that wiggling! You're giving me a bone!"

Willing hands reached out and pulled The Phantom and Matt away from the two younger boys. Joey and Randy rolled over and glared at The Phantom. "And what's this 'kids' shit?" demanded Joey as he struggled to stand up. Phil reached out and took him in his arms. Randy quickly followed Joey's lead and he too was enveloped in Phil's strong embrace.

All four boys were battered, bruised, wet and covered in soot. Their clothing was streaked with soot and all four were singed around the edges.

"Are you all right?" Cory asked as he began to unbuckle the jacket of Phantom's B suit. Behind him Harry stood ready with a blanket.

The Phantom grinned. "Sure am! Hell and sheeit, it never even hit me!" He shrugged off the stiff, uncomfortable jacket and let it drop to the ground. "Thanks Harry," he said as his friend draped the blanket over his shoulders. Harry was white-faced under his tan and his hands shook as he smoothed the blanket covering The Phantom, who smiled his thanks warmly and then grimaced. "Except for my side and the back of my head." He reached around and felt the crown and back of his head. "Looks like I have a bump or three," he finished.

Cory, ever helpful, reached out and felt where The Phantom had been feeling. "Yep," he said, "a bump! But the skin's not broken and you're not bleeding." He began to lead The Phantom toward the boats waiting at the water's edge. "We'd better get you aboard ship, anyway, and let Chef have a look at you!"

"No, wait, please," asked The Phantom. He needed to reassure himself that the others were all right. He saw that Phil had released Randy and Joey and had draped each of them in a blanket and was now busily feeling their arms and sides, making certain that they had suffered no serious injuries. To one side Todd stood holding a blanket as Nicholas helped Matt out of his jacket.

Cory saw where The Phantom was looking and smiled softly, admiring Phantom's senses of compassion and responsibility. A renewed sense of love coursed through Cory as he gave The Phantom's arm a reassuring squeeze. "They're fine, Phantom. And they're in good hands. Now come on."

Groaning, The Phantom allowed himself to be led to his fate.

Matt felt the blanket being slowly draped over his shoulders and glanced back to see Todd - sweet, beautiful Todd, a look of utter devastation on his face - staring back at him. "Thanks," said Matt, his voice soft and low.

Nodding, Todd smiled at Matt. "I . . . I . . ." he began, unable to speak the words he felt. He realized that he was in love with the younger cadet, and had never known such fear as he had when he thought that the tree had killed Matt. He was so afraid of losing this handsome, glorious boy. "I love you," Todd breathed. "I . . ."

Matt shook his head. "Don't, Todd." He wrapped the blanket tightly around his body. "We both know it won't work," he said gently. Then he began walking toward the beach. Todd, crushed, followed him.

Both Randy and Joey were snarling at Phil, who refused to let either of the younger boys go. Phil adored them, and had had the fright of his life. He could not quite believe that his two loves were standing upright and hugged them close. He was aware of the looks from some of the other boys and stared them down, his firm, steady eyes saying, "Don't fuck with me!"

The four boys were ferried out to the gate vessel where they were handed over to the tender mercies of Chef. They were stripped down to their underpants, which was unfortunate, as Randy had chosen this day to wear a red and white Superman motif pair of undies. Standing in the miniscule Wardroom with, or so he thought, everybody staring at him, his entire body blushed as red as his hair and almost as red as the banding on his briefs. Chef, for once, said nothing. "Now then, lad, your drawers are that soaked through," he said as he draped a blanket over Randy. "Take them the off the whole of you."

Naked now, and with their clothes in the engine room drying out, The Phantom, Matt, Randy and Joey huddled on the narrow benches flanking the Wardroom table on two sides and allowed Chef to play mother. The old man fussed and muttered and, with Ray acting as his nurse and acolyte, made certain that none of the boys had been seriously injured. Except for some scrapes and bruises, and a bit of singeing around their ears, the boys were fine. Chef plied them with hot chocolate (into which he had poured a generous measure of Bailey's Irish Cream), and fended off the other crewmembers that crowded the narrow door looking for news. Then he ordered them into the officers' heads and washplace to shower. The Phantom, who knew Joey and Randy, made them shower together and stood outside the plastic curtain to make sure that was all they did. When the two younger boys were finished, The Phantom and Matt showered together.

As there was only one showerhead, the two boys stood together, soaping up and rinsing. The Phantom could feel Matt's warm thigh against his. He closed his eyes and was washing his hair when he felt Matt move behind him.

Matt reached around The Phantom's naked body and his hands began to rub ever so gently The Phantom nipples. "We shouldn't," The Phantom said just loud enough to be heard over the pounding waters. He could feel Matt's body pressed against his back, and could feel Matt's erection riding slowly up his butt crack.

Burying his face in The Phantom's back, Matt's hands reached lower and he began to slowly masturbate The Phantom. As he did so he began to rub himself forcefully up and down The Phantom's crack, moaning softly and kissing the nape of The Phantom's neck. The Phantom leaned his head back and let the pleasure that Matt's hand was giving him flow through his body.

Breathing heavily, Matt began to fondle and squeeze The Phantom's testicles with one hand and rub the head of The Phantom's penis with the other. All too soon The Phantom grunted as his penis jerked in Matt's hand and a firm, strong jet of his semen spattered against the metal bulkhead of the shower. Within seconds Matt shuddered and The Phantom felt the warmth and thickness of Matt's ejaculation oozing down his back and buttocks.

They stayed together until their orgasms passed, then turned, and kissed deeply. "I love you, Phantom," Matt whispered with his shy smile. "I will always love you."

The Phantom nodded and kissed Matt again. "And I will always love you, Matty. You will always be my little brother."

"And you wouldn't let us fool around!" came Randy's injured voice.

The Phantom and Matt pulled apart and drew aside the shower curtain and saw both Randy and Joey, naked, and sporting erections, standing in the doorway, giggling. As The Phantom and Matt watched each boy reached down to fondle his cherry red glans. A look of eager anticipation crossed Joey's face as he grinned and asked, "Please?"

Accepting the inevitable, The Phantom nodded and led Matt from the shower stall. He fixed a firm look at the two younger boys. "Five minutes, and don't let Chef catch you!"

Father wasted no time in ordering the gate vessel to return to port. He kept Nicholas busy with a series of voice messages to CFB Comox and AURORA, alerting the two establishments of what had happened. He conned the ship himself and constantly sent Lieutenant Arnott, Sub-Lieutenant Menzies, Nicholas or Brian down below to the improvised Sick Bay to check on "his boys".

As the old ship shuddered with the pulsing of the ancient diesel engine, Father began to write up his incident report. His old eyes grew teary as he recounted the events of the afternoon. It was not quite the way he wanted to leave the Andrew, but there it was, and there would be no cover-up. He smiled at Colin Arnott, who smiled weakly back. They had all had a fright, to be sure, but all was well. The boys were fine, and Father, as the author of their misfortune, would take the heat.

Colin approached the improvised Sick Bay with some trepidation. He had no idea how Phantom felt toward him. He only knew how he felt about Phantom. He could not explain his feelings, he could not explain or understand why, after 22 years he suddenly had fallen in love with a boy. He did not dissemble, he did not question. He only knew what he felt.

When he entered the Wardroom Colin saw the four boys seated around the mess table. They were all wrapped in blankets and sipping at what looked like rich, milk chocolate drinks. He saw Chef, who was bustling as much as he could in the small space. "May I come in?" Colin asked.

Chef frowned. For all their protestations he was not all sure if the lads needed visitors. They might claim to be perfectly fine, but he was no doctor, and Phantom, Lord love the lad, had a fine bump on his head. Randy and Joey had what looked like the makings of at least first degree burns on their hands, and Matt's thigh was discoloured from where a branch of the tree had stuck him.

Before Chef could deny the young officer entry, The Phantom looked up and saw Colin standing in the doorway. He smiled a smile so brilliantly warm and bright that Colin's heart all but melted. "Hey, sir," called The Phantom. "Come on in."

Colin glanced at Chef for approval, which was given with a slight nod of Chef's head. Randy and Joey, smarter than they looked, saw something in Colin's face that neither Chef nor Matt saw, something that spoke volumes and cried out for a private moment with Phantom. Randy's eyes twinkled as he turned to Chef and whined, "Can we go on deck? I'm that hot in here!"

Joey quickly followed Randy's lead. "Yeah, Chef, we ain't hurt and I am so very hot." Joey could whinge and wheedle just as well as Randy, sometimes better.

Chef bristled. "And would ye be going on the deck without your pants on? Look at the whole of you."

Randy opened his blanket and looked at his crotch. "It's still there, and there ain't a soul who hasn't seen one like it." He grinned and quickly pulled open Matt's covering blanket. "And hey, Matt's is still there to!"

"Hey," yelped Matt as he snatched back his blanket.

Joey giggled and Randy snickered. Chief glared at the two boys and then sighed. "Ray darlin', take the pair of them to the quarterdeck. Matt, Go with them and make sure they don't fall overboard."

Matt glowered. He was not at all pleased with Randy examining his danglies, and even less pleased that there was an off chance that Lieutenant Arnott had seen them. He looked at the officer and saw that he was not paying any attention to anyone but . . . Phantom. Matt's eyes widened and he looked to see that Phantom was . . . Smiling inwardly Matt quickly shuffled out from behind the table. "Okay, Chef." He motioned for the two younger cadets to follow him.

Chef followed the cadets out of the Wardroom, saying that he had to report to the Commanding Officer. Silently Colin slid onto the settee to sit beside The Phantom. "I . . . God Phantom, I was so worried," he began, the pink skin of his face blushing and turning bright red. "I . . ."

The Phantom smiled and said softly, "I'm fine." His eyes darted toward the hatch that opened into the galley. Then he quickly kissed Colin. "It's nice that you worry about me."

It took ever ounce of Colin's willpower not to clasp The Phantom in his arms. "Please Phantom, hear me out!" he begged.

The Phantom nodded.

"I . . . I'm falling in love with you," Colin blurted out. "I shouldn't, but I can't help myself. When that tree fell on you, and you disappeared under that pillar of fire, I almost . . . Damn, Phantom, I was so frightened, so afraid that when they lifted up that bloody bush all I'd see was your . . ."

"Colin," whispered The Phantom, a wistful smile on his face. He reached up and touched Colin's smooth face. "I'm all right, I'm not hurt. Please, don't fuss so!"

"I didn't know that!" replied Colin almost desperately. "I just couldn't, damn it, I could not see myself living if something had happened to you!"

The Phantom drew back, pressing his back against the settee. "But Colin, we just met!" he protested, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

Nodding, Colin looked at The Phantom and smiled warmly. "So? Have you never heard of love at first sight?" He reached out and pulled The Phantom to him, holding the young man close. "I know that you can never love me the way I love you, just as I know that when you leave it will probably be the last time that I will ever see you, that I will never be able to make love to you, that you will never make love to me. I know all that!" He slipped his hand under the blanket covering The Phantom's body and felt his warm, smooth chest. "I know all that, just as I know that I'm in love with you."

The Phantom could not resist. His arms reached around and enveloped Colin, who buried his face in the hollow of The Phantom's neck. "You're making me fall in love with you, Colin Arnott," whispered The Phantom. "This is not supposed to happen. I can't fall in love with you."

Before The Phantom could say another word Colin kissed him, a deep, passionate, love-filled kiss that filled their souls with awe. "I love you, Phantom," gasped Colin when they pulled apart. He reached up to gently caress The Phantom's smooth, boyish face. "All during the passage I couldn't think straight. All I wanted to do was to hold you in my arms, to feel your heart beating, to listen to you breathe. I want . . . I want to make love to you, to . . ."

Shaking his head, The Phantom took Colin's hand in his. While he did not know it, his emerald eyes gleamed with a special fire, a fire that he had known for only one other man, a fire that now burned as brightly as he looked into Colin's clear, sparkling blue eyes. "Colin, you are one of the handsomest men I have ever met. If I wanted a relationship based just on looks, you'd be it." He shook his head emphatically when he saw Colin about to open his mouth. "No, Colin, don't. It cannot be! We hardly know each other and even if I wanted to have sex with you - which I admit I do - it's impossible for many reasons." He withdrew his hand and pointed down to the tile-covered deck. "You live there until when?"

"Until we get back to Victoria," replied Colin honestly. "We sail from here to Esquimalt."

"And then?"

"Back to Toronto, to school," Colin replied, again honesty.

"I live here, in Comox," said The Phantom. "At the moment I'm living in the Gunroom in AURORA. Where could we possibly be together, and do not dare suggest some scaly motel."

"I wasn't about to!" returned Colin, bristling at the mere suggestion. "You mean much more to me than that!"

Smiling, The Phantom continued. "So, where would we go? Your cabin is not available, unless you want to end up in a threesome with Menzies."

"Don't be stupid," growled Colin.

The Phantom ignored Colin's ire. "I am also in a relationship." The Phantom touched his heart. "You might not understand, but I know, deep in here, that I am destined to be with the man I am now with. It is not going to happen soon, or perhaps the way I want it to happen, but I will be with him."

Colin's shoulder's slumped and the tears welled in his eyes. "You've told me, Phantom, damn it! I know you're seeing another man!" He raised his head and looked at The Phantom, his eyes filled with love and sadness. "I look at you, and I see something wonderful. I look into your eyes, and I melt. I hear your name and I want to shout with happiness. I hear you speak my name and I want to take you in my arms and just hold you! Can you not understand that?"

"Colin, I do understand the way you feel," replied The Phantom calmly. "I've seen it happen before. One of my friends fell in love and suffered the pangs of hell for it because he and his lover had to part. Another is deeply committed to another boy. They fell in love just by looking at each other . . . just as you fell in love when you first saw me."

Colin's face grew hard. "But you didn't, and I'm just some schlub you gave a blow job to one afternoon." He made to stand. "All right, I accept the inevitable."

"Where are you going?" asked The Phantom, his voice calm, his tone cool.

"Back to the bridge," snapped Colin. "There's really no reason for me to be here, is there?"

"Actually, there is," returned The Phantom. "You've had your say, and you could at least remain and let me have mine!" His eyes blazed. "It might interest you to know that I do not consider you some 'schlub'!"

"You don't?" asked Colin as he sank back on to the settee, his heart racing.

"No," replied The Phantom, shaking his head. He reached out and touched Colin's chest. "You are beautiful, Colin, and I won't deny that your very beauty attracted me." He scowled slightly, his eyes lowering. "I also admit that I took advantage of you."

Colin gently stroked The Phantom's face, smiling wistfully as he said, "Phantom, when I asked you down to my cabin I wanted something to happen."

"No, Colin, it was wrong to do what I did." His eyes clouded slightly as he whispered, "Friends don't take advantage of friends, and they don't take advantage of someone they've come to care deeply for."

"Then I do mean something to you?" asked Colin, his eyes wide, dismissing The Phantom's apology. His heart was pounding with happiness. "Is that what you are saying?" he demanded softly, his face ablaze with delight at The Phantom's words. Phantom cared for him!

"What I am saying is that I feel an attraction, no, more than an attraction. I could, if things were different, be with you for whatever length of time is allotted to us." The Phantom snorted softly. "Hell and sheeit, Colin, I'd be out of my mind not to want you!" He deliberately reached down and put his hand on Colin's crotch. "This, what is in here, was not what attracted me!" He reached up and caressed Colin's warm, smooth face. "This attracted me, because of the beauty and nobility I saw," whispered The Phantom. He ran a finger across Colin's eyes. "These attracted me, because of the warmth I saw in them." He placed his hand on Colin's chest. "This attracted me, for the strength of the heart that beats under it." He kissed Colin's lips gently. "These attracted me for the way they smiled at me."

"Oh, God," groaned Colin as he wrapped his arms around The Phantom's blanket covered body. "I hoped, I prayed, I never . . ."

"Colin," began The Phantom, "if there were time, and a place, I would be your summer romance." He glanced up quickly and saw a shadow. Smiling, he continued. "Chef, who is lurking around the corner, listening to every word we say . . ." Colin started and tried to pull away but The Phantom held him close. "Chef would say, 'Faith, and follow your heart, my young Knight of Kerrygarda or some such mythical place . . ." There was a sharp, muted gasp from the corridor outside which The Phantom ignored. " . . . For 'tis the only thing that is true."

"We can't, though," muttered Colin unhappily.

"We can't," replied The Phantom as he allowed Colin to pull away.

Standing, Colin looked directly at The Phantom. "If you could, would you?" he asked.

Slowly The Phantom nodded his head.

As Colin walked past the open door of the Doghouse on his way forward a huge, ham-fisted arm reached out and pulled him into the darkened compartment and slammed him against the row of lockers lining the forward bulkhead. "You've had your say, boyo, now I'll have mine!" hissed Chef.

Colin saw the rage of indignation in the old man's eyes and merely nodded. "Say your piece, Chef."

"What are you playing at then? Are you after thinkin' that the lad's a mere plaything, something to be used and tossed aside, because it you are, well then, boyo, 'tis me you'll be meeting on a dark night!"

A special light came into Colin's eyes and Chef loosened his grip. "I love him," replied Colin sincerely. "If you knew me at all you'd know that! If you knew me you'd know he isn't . . ." "You're right, boyo. I don't know you at all," said Chef, his eyes flinty, his voice icy. "But I will. When I am finished with you, my lad, I'll know everything there is to know about you, things your mother doesn't know!" He laughed caustically - and dangerously. "When I am finished with you, young Colin Edward Lawrence Arnott, I shall know the name of the doctor who circumcised you! I shall know the name of the last person you had sex with! I shall know, and I shall destroy you, my lad, if so much as a hair is put out of place on young Phantom's head."

For some reason Colin was not intimidated and he would not allow himself to show fear. "The doctor's name was Patterson, Liam Patterson, and according to my mother he circumcised me in his office. She said all I did was grunt at him and then pee!" He reached up and pulled Chef's brawny hands away. "The last 'person' I had sex with was named Mavis something or other. She works in Base Finance and she gave me a blow job in the back row of the balcony of the Imperial Theatre in Victoria. She made me pull away before I came and I shot all over my pants!" He leaned forward and looked directly into Chef's astonished eyes. "Before that I fucked some bimbo I picked up in a bar in Toronto. I fucked her in the alley beside the bar! I just unzipped and pulled out my dick and rammed it home! I didn't even take my pants off!"

Chef drew back, leaned against one of the bunks that lined the aft bulkhead and nodded. "Well, now, it would seem that the lad has bottom, so he does."

"No, the lad has balls, Chef," replied Colin coolly. "They might be small, but they're made of brass."

Chef's face softened. "You play a dangerous game, young Colin. Phantom is well-beloved by forces that will cause you to feel the fear that none but God can put in a man."

"Is this a warning?" demanded Colin hotly. "Stay away, or else?" He shook his head and raised a clenched fist. "Well, Chef, do your damnedest because this might be all I have to fight those forces with, but I will, just as I will make love to Phantom one day!"

Taken aback at the force of Colin's declaration, Chef paused before answering. "You're not just some horny little man, then, are you?"

"No."

"You really are in love with him, then?"

Colin's blue eyes flashed. "If he'd let me, I'd love him until Hell freezes over!" He sighed quietly. "But he won't, will he? He won't allow himself to 'follow his heart', will he?"

It was Chef's turn to sigh quietly. "He's in love, and no denying it." Then he did something that surprised Colin. He placed his broad hand on Colin's shoulder. "Listen to me, then, young Colin. There are those who follow their hearts, aye, 'tis true. Then there are those who cannot, because God and man have destined them to be something that does not allow them to follow anything but the path set before them."

"I . . . I don't understand," replied Colin, his face betraying his curiosity at Chef's statement.

"There is no need for you to understand," replied Chef. "All you need to know, and understand, is that all too soon Phantom will need the love and support of a good man." He waved his arm slowly. "Out there on the deck there are boys, his friends, and aye, his lovers. They will help, but he will need to feel the love of a man, to feel the arms of a man around him." He straightened and glared menacingly at Colin. "If you are who you say you are, and believe in your soul - and if you do not I shall know it - then you will be that man." He saw Colin's mouth drop in surprise. "Be his friend, be his lover, be his consort, be whatever he needs you to be." He held up a long, plump finger. "But know three things . . ."

"Three things?"

"Aye. First, whatever is between you and the lad will end, for 'tis his destiny to share his life with someone other than you. You will only have him for a little while."

Colin shrugged. "As long as I can be with him." He looked at Chef. "You said three things."

"You will maintain your silence. Phantom is as proud as a Derry man, so he is, and would not care to know that you have been sent to care for him. He is to know nothing and to think only that you are with him because of your love for him."

"Which is exactly why I will be with him, damn you," flared Colin. "How could you even suggest otherwise?"

"I meant no offence. I merely meant to emphasize your complete discretion. It is your destiny to take away the hurt and pain the lad will soon feel. The choice is yours for you will be required to make sacrifices. Your time is not yet, but your time is coming." He took Colin's arm and led him onto the deck and over to the port side of the small vessel. For a long time Chef stared out at they dancing waves. The he turned.

"When your time comes you will return here, to Comox, or Victoria. You will not have to worry about money, or being accepted at the university. You will be given a great gift, a treasure held dear by many. You may hold this gift, you may cherish this treasure but you may not keep it."

"Phantom," whispered Colin.

"Aye, lad, Phantom. He feels deep things for you, although he does not want to admit them. That will change."

"You seem damned sure of that!" returned Colin. "I thought . . ."

"You thought wrong!" Chef's hands gripped the bulwark tightly. "Do you accept the gift? Do you accept the keepership of a treasure so great that I must tell you that if you in any way make him unhappy, you will not have to fear me. I am a mere mortal. Harm Phantom and you invoke the wrath of gods."

"Now I am frightened," replied Colin as he took a step back. "Phantom is that important to . . .?"

"You will know in time enough. Do you accept the guardianship offered you?"

"Yes."

"Then return to Toronto. Go about your business as you would normally do. When it is time a man will come to you and offer you a mantle. Take it, and place it over your shoulders. And always remember, young Colin Arnott . . ."

"That I am a mere mortal and apt to invoke the wrath of gods."

As the gate boat slowly approached the jetty, The Phantom saw what seemed to be half the staff from the base hospital waiting. Front and centre was Doc, with Number One beside him. Matron stood off to one side holding a small pile of blankets and Dirty Dave the Deacon had draped a purple stole over his white uniform shirt. There was even a boxy ambulance standing by.

Chef, who was eying the assembled crowd, let a small smile flicker across his face. "Faith. And I think the Vicar is after hopin' to be giving somebody the Last Rites!"

"Hell and sheeit!" snarled The Phantom. "I ain't dead yet! And Ray, would you please stop your fussing!"

Ray smiled weakly and continued to press the icepack against the back of The Phantom's head. "Phantom, you've got a nasty bump, and . . ."

"You keep that up and I'll give your nasty bump a bump!" returned The Phantom with a grimace. "I'm fine!"

Off in the corner Joey and Randy snickered. After their quick session in the shower neither boy had a bump, although with Calvin Hobbes dancing attendance they could remedy that situation in short order! They didn't mind Calvin hovering around at all. Beside the Brats, Matt, who was nursing a bruised shoulder, grimaced at the two boys, but said nothing. He was actually feeling quite proud of himself for his somewhat minor role in the accident. Just having Phantom hold him close and fret and fuss over him in the shower had made having the tree fall on them that much more worthwhile. Having Nicholas as his nurse didn't hurt matters, either. He looked up and saw Nicholas staring back at him, and smiled. Nicholas swallowed and gently stroked Matt's back, a slow smile of recognition crossing his face. >From above they could hear the clang of the bells as the wheelhouse staff answered the orders from the bridge. They felt the ship shudder as the engine was reversed and the screw dug into the water, slowing the gate boat as she came along side. From above Lieutenant Arnott bellowed, "Out Fenders!" and the heaving lines went flying through the air, the monkey's fists thumping on the wooden deck of the jetty.

Before the gangway could be run out Doc leaped aboard, which everybody thought was a hoot, considering his age. Doc ignored the snickers and before The Phantom, Matt, Randy or Joey knew it they were being poked, prodded and wrapped in blankets. Their protests did no good and they were bundled into the ambulance for the short drive to Sick Bay. Here the four boys were stripped to their underpants - again - and examined, first by Doc, then by the PMO from base. Matron bustled about, taking temperatures and generally making a pest of herself. Dirty Dave the Deacon hovered in the waiting room, leafing through his Book of Common Prayer, just in case.

Outside Cory, Todd and Nicholas paced back and forth. Chef grumbled and mumbled as he paced back and forth. Sandro was mumbling an interminable prayer - punctuated, for some reason, with "Oy Vey!" - which annoyed Ray no end. Kevin, who had come running from the galley, kept assuring Ray that Phantom and the boys would be fine, which annoyed Ray even more.

As the YAGs came in and tied up the other Gunroom cadets had to come up and the crowd thickened. Kyle and Andy, as became officers, projected a calm demeanour, but both men were inwardly worried sick. Harry stayed close to Todd, keeping quiet. He knew that Todd had special feelings for The Phantom, and for Matt. If anything was truly wrong with either boy Harry was determined to be there for Todd.

Sean came alongside with a white-faced Phil Thornton. Phil was sweating profusely and waving his bandaged hands for he had sustained first-degree burns to both of them - the right much worse than the left and while his injuries did not incapacitate him, they were painful. He had roundly ignored Sean's advice, and the Squadron Commander's, and insisted on remaining at his post in the YAG wheelhouse because doing what he had been trained to do, doing what he was expected to do, doing his duty as well as he could, kept him from screaming his fear and the agony he felt. He knew that signals were flying back and forth between the ships in the little squadron and constantly badgered the Yeoman, who could not tell him anything, of course. Signals addressed to the ship were one thing, those addressed to the Commanding Officer could be read by him alone. Only the Yeoman, and Sean Anders were privy to the contents of all signals and Sean could not betray the trust placed in him.

The Jetty jumper had barely dropped the first line over an iron bollard when Phil leaped ashore. Sean, who tried to stop him, followed him. Phil shook off Sean's restraining hand and snarled, "I'm going, Sean and don't try to stop me!" His mind was reeling and if anything had happened to Randy and Joey he did not know what he would do. Sean showed the kinder side of his character as he gently squeezed Phil's shoulder. "They are all right, Phil," he murmured kindly. "I saw the signal."

Phil nodded dumbly, his eyes betraying the panic he felt. "I love them Chief," he whispered hoarsely. "Please God, let them be all right!" he prayed as he turned and ran from the Dockyard.

"Well, you have a hard head, and no danger," said Doc when he was finished examining The Phantom. "Aside from the bump, and some scrapes, you're fine." He chuckled dryly.

"I could have told you that," returned The Phantom sourly.

"And you do seem to have a knack for getting bumped in the head," Doc replied, referring to the last time The Phantom had been in Sick Bay, when Nigel Farnsworth had knocked him for a loop.

The Phantom knew exactly what Doc was referring to when he said, "Yeah, well this time it was for a good cause. Can I put my pants on now?"

Doc laughed and leaned to whisper into The Phantom's ear, "And what makes you think the last time wasn't?"

The Phantom thought about Nigel's ultimate fate and nodded, but made no mention of Nigel's resignation and expulsion from the Sea Cadets. There was a much more important matter to hand. "Doc, can I please put my pants back on?" he asked, cupping his privates through his boxers. His eyes slid over to where Matron was bustling about, straightening the instrument tray.

Doc saw The Phantom's look and chuckled evilly, "Oh, do leave them off a little longer," he replied with a grin. "It's not often that Matron has four strapping young cadets sitting around the surgery in their underpants! I'm sure she's quite excited at the sight of you!"

Joey and Randy snickered and puffed out their bare chests. Until now everyone had referred to them as scrawny little gits and they felt quite the young men. Then Matt told the boys that they had better be careful, puffing up their chests like that and pooching out their baskets 'cause Matron just loved little boy cadets. Joey and Randy immediately reached for their trousers and dressed quickly. They had no desire to meet Matron in a romantic mood.

When they exited Sick Bay, pronounced fit and whole by competent medical authority, the four boys endured the backslapping and bum patting of their friends and shipmates. The Phantom saw Colin Arnott standing to one side and extricated himself from the scrum. He walked over to where Colin was standing and smiled the smile that drove Colin crazy. "I'm all right, you know," he said quietly.

Colin resisted the urge to take The Phantom in his arms. He absently rubbed The Phantom's shoulder as he said, "I had so see for myself. I had to know."

A few feet away the Twins watched the tableau and Cory shook his head slightly. Todd saw the head shaking and his hand grasped Cory's arm. "It's none of our business," he said firmly.

"Oh, I agree," replied Cory, not at all convincingly. "I just can't help wondering . . ." He shook his head.

"What?" demanded Todd.

"That boy has it bad," replied Cory, referring to Colin Arnott. "And Phantom is not saying no." He sighed. "I can't help wonder what The Gunner will say about Phantom's young officer."

The house was packed with people. The Gunner knew none of them, and smiled mechanically as his hand was shaken and condolences offered. The mixed fragrances of the flowers that made up the mass of wreathes and arrangements that lined every wall and corridor of the ground floor threatened to overwhelm him. Faces blurred into one and by the time six o'clock rolled around The Gunner was ready for a short break. He retired to the garden for a quiet, reflective smoke. Very soon he was joined by Ace.

"Sophie's back," advised Ace as he cadged a cigarette.

The Gunner chuckled. "She after your caboose?"

"Naw," replied Ace with a lascivious grin. "She has a new 'friend of the family' with her." He took a deep drag of his cigarette. "She says to tell you that she's cleaned out your aunt's things and put them in that cubby-hole Edward thinks you stay in."

The Gunner laughed quietly. "He's so busy holding court and pretending to be the bereaved husband I doubt he even knew I didn't spend the night."

Ace frowned. "At least you don't have to put up with him on a day-to-day basis," he said with a slight shudder.

The Gunner gave Ace's shoulder a slight squeeze. "You could quit, you know."

Shaking his head, Ace looked into the distance. "I could, but then what would I do with my time?"

"Come on, Ace," said The Gunner not unkindly. "You're not that shallow. You could go back to school. You were articling at Osgoode Hall, weren't you?"

"Only because my father wanted me to," replied Ace honestly. "I don't like the law, and I don't like lawyers. Frankly, I'd rather hang around the bathhouse than Osgoode Hall. You meet a much better class of people in a bathhouse!"

The Gunner started to laugh. "Looking at that crowd in there . . ." he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, ". . . I can believe it!" Then he sobered and said, "I'll miss you, Ace."

Ace felt like weeping, but controlled his emotions. Steve Winslow would be, after Monday, just a warm memory. "I'll miss you, Steve," Ace said quietly. "But, you have things to do, places to go, dragons to slay . . ." he grinned impishly. "And you have someone you love deeply waiting for you." He shook the melancholy from his brain and slipped an arm around The Gunner's waist. "You'll leave Monday, but until then . . ." He gave The Gunner a slight hug. "Oh, God, Steve!" he exclaimed softly.

The Gunner pulled gently away. "Ace, please don't," he asked, the pain he felt in his heart echoed by his tone. "I care for you, and I want to be with you, but it has to end. You knew that, I know that. Please don't make my leaving any harder than it already is!"

Ace nodded. "You're right, Steve," he said, regaining his composure. "I'm sorry for being such a ninny!"

"You're not a ninny," replied The Gunner with a smile.

"Yeah, I am," replied Ace. "I started out with nothing but a summer fling in my mind! Then I went and fell in love with you! I've never been in love before, Steve."

"I was, once," replied The Gunner. He saw the quizzical look on Ace's face and continued. "When I was in CORNWALLIS I fell in love and I have to tell you, Ace, it was hell! I was googly eyed, brain fucked, and every-time-I-saw-him-it-was-boner-time in love. I was a wreck!"

"What happened?"

The Gunner laughed caustically. "He was, or perhaps I should say, is, straight. When I declared my feelings he beat the crap out of me, called me a few names, and told me that I disgusted him. He walked out of my life and I've never seen him since."

"Jerk!" sniffed Ace.

"Me or him?" asked The Gunner with a huge grin.

"Him, you ass!" retorted Ace.

"Anyway," The Gunner replied as he stood up, "I thought that I would never find love again. But I did, and so will you. You're a damned handsome man, Ace, and a wonderful lover. The right man will come along and you'll find the happiness you deserve."

"But not the happiness I want," thought Ace. He glanced up at The Gunner. "I wish I had your confidence," he said sadly. Then he smiled slyly. "Until that mythical Mr. Right comes along, however, I think I'll just keep my old kilt thrown across the bed."

Inside the house the crowd had diminished somewhat. Sophie was holding court in the library, entertaining her lady friends with slightly risqué tales about the elite of the city. A slim, dark-haired young man danced attendance, fetching cups of tea for the non-drinkers, and hearty belts for those who liked something stronger. He used these trips to the bar and buffet to ogle and smile at one of the undertakers assistants, an equally slim, dark-haired young man. If Sophie noticed, she pretended otherwise.

The Gunner resumed his position in the hall, greeting the few mourners that came through the door. His Uncle Edward, insincere and plastic as always, stood by his wife's bier, shaking hands, kissing cheeks and generally fulfilling his role as the grieving spouse. Watching his uncle, The Gunner felt the bile rising in his throat, and while he did not realize it, his face had turned red with anger and he was growling in low, fierce tones. The shallowness of his uncle was beyond The Gunner's belief. That the man could stand there and pretend to mourn his loss was . . .

"He's not worth it, Stephen dear," came Sophie's low voice. She placed her hand on The Gunner's forearm and said, "Besides, you look like my Pomeranian when she's cornered a mouse."

The anger he felt towards his uncle drained from The Gunner's body. He laughed quietly. "You're right," he said as he patted Sophie's hand. "It is just so damned aggravating to see him up there, pretending to feel something he never felt. Could he not, just once, be honest?"

"Why, and change the habit of a lifetime?" asked Sophie. She gently pulled The Gunner aside and led him outside.

They stood at the head of the long, curving driveway and for the first time The Gunner noticed just how handsome a woman Sophie was. She exuded class and breeding, which was not surprising, as she had been born to wealth and gentility. She might be a vacuous and, at times, silly old woman, but she more than made up for her failings by her genuine concern and caring for Margaret Winslow, and for Margaret's nephew.

"You know, Stephen, you aunt loved you very much," said Sophie as she smoothed the bodice of her mauve lace frock.

"I know," replied The Gunner. He smiled weakly at Sophie. "And you loved her, Sophie."

"Yes, I did," returned Sophie. "Margaret understood me, and I understood her. We were the best of friends and now she's gone." Sophie hugged herself and shook her head sadly. "She was a wonderful person, Stephen, and deserved better than that bastard!"

"Why, Sophie!" exclaimed The Gunner, surprised at the vehemence in Sophie's voice.

"It's true," returned Sophie, not at all repentant. "Edward Winslow is a bastard. I know it, Margaret knew it, and together we laughed behind his back." They stood together in silence for a few moments and the Sophie said, "He loves you very much, you know."

Startled at Sophie's strange remark, The Gunner took a step back. He saw that she was looking, not at his Uncle Edward, but at Acton, and realized what she meant. A blush began creeping up his face. "Uh, I don't know what to say, Sophie," he answered sheepishly.

Sophie's low, tinkling laugh filled the hallway. "Stephen dear - I may call you that?" At The Gunner's nod she continued. "I have known Acton Grimes since he was six years old! I once caught him piddling in my hydrangeas - the gardener was most upset - and knew that he was destined for great things."

The Gunner could not help laughing. "Really, Sophie!"

Nodding, Sophie smiled sweetly. "Now, that is much better! You were much too gloomy by far!" She wrapped an arm around The Gunner's waist and continued. "Acton is in many ways just a boy. He wears his heart on his sleeve and I know him well enough to know that he's mad in love with you. He's never been this way before."

"And you would know?"

"Of course," replied Sophie easily. "Women see things that men refuse to see. Especially in each other. I see in you a good man, a man who loves other men but refuses to actually love them. You and Acton are having a little affaire de coeur, are you not?"

"It shows?" asked The Gunner, surprised.

"It shows," repeated Sophie with a chuckle. "Not that I care a whit or a promise. Acton needed someone like you to come along. Margaret and I knew years ago that Acton was a gentleman who preferred the company of other gentlemen. We kept hoping that he would meet someone, but sadly, he never did. Until you came strolling down the path."

The Gunner felt terribly embarrassed. He was not accustomed to discussing his private affairs with anyone, let alone a strange old lady. Still, Sophie was a perceptive old boot. He let out his breath with a loud whoosh of air. "I care for Acton, I enjoy being with him, and yes, in another place, at another time, I might have fallen in love with him."

"But not now?"

"No." The Gunner looked into Sophie's sparkling, knowing eyes. "I have a . . . a lover back home," he admitted without a trace of shame or regret. "I love him more than life itself. And he loves me."

Sophie nodded understandingly. "Then he is a very fortunate young man, to love, and be loved."

"I love Ace," admitted The Gunner. "As silly as it sounds, I do love him." Then, without thinking, he added, "Ace is not some weekend fuck, you know!"

When he realized what he had just said, The Gunner's jaw dropped and his face turned a deep red. He began sputtering an apology but Sophie's delighted laughter stopped him. "Oh, my dear Stephen!" she exclaimed. "How refreshing to hear an honest man!" She nodded toward her latest "friend of the family". "There are so few of you left."

"I am sorry, Sophie," apologized The Gunner. "I sometimes forget that I am not in a mess deck."

"Don't let it bother you," replied Sophie. "My first husband, while a dear, drank like a fish and swore like a trooper."

"Taught you all his bad habits, did he?" asked The Gunner with a grin.

"Most of 'em," replied Sophie equably. "My second husband taught me how to play poker and the third, rat bag that he was, pegged out before he could teach me anything."

"So now you just stick with the amateurs?"

Sophie sighed. "Stephen, if I were ten - no, twenty years - younger, I'd give you a run for your money so far as Ace is concerned."

"It's his caboose, isn't it?" asked The Gunner dryly. "I could never compete in the caboose department."

Sophie's laugh once again disturbed the quiet of the mourning chamber. Several heads turned and several faces frowned. Sophie frowned back and returned to The Gunner. "Ace has a very lovely caboose," she agreed. "However, it is not his caboose I am concerned about. Ace is . . . how shall I put it . . . without a goal, without a direction in his life? He plays at working for Edward, but really has no plans at all. It is time he settled down and did something meaningful with his life."

"Now, Sophie, Acton is still a young man. He . . ." began The Gunner.

"Stephen, Margaret loved Acton, as I do. She looked upon him as a surrogate son. She wanted him to amount to something and not spend most of his waking hours in some dingy bath house!" Sophie nodded at The Gunner's appalled look. "Yes, Stephen, I know about Acton's habits."

"And you don't condemn him?"

"Certainly not," snapped Sophie, her words tinged with anger. "That Ace is gay is of little importance." She laughed mirthlessly. "Ace is not alone, you know." She gave a slight wave of her hand, indicating the small crowd of people gathered in the drawing room and the dining room. "At least two of the men you see there are homosexual. I know for a fact that at least three of them have sons who are homosexual."

The Gunner regarded the crowd and nodded. "It happens in the best of families."

"Yes, it does," agreed Sophie blithely. "Some handle it well, others take to the bottle, or drugs, and pretend to be something they are not." Her hand grasped The Gunner's arm. "Listen to me, Stephen, that cannot happen to Ace. It must not happen to Ace! Next to you he was the apple of Margaret's eye and I cannot allow him to let something he cannot help being destroy him!" She released The Gunner's arm and then motioned for them to go outside.

As they stood under the porte-cochere Sophie dabbed her forehead with a lace-edged handkerchief. It was muggy, and a storm threatened. "We'll have rain soon, I think," offered The Gunner.

Sophie nodded absently. "We could use it," she said presently. Then she turned to look at The Gunner. "Stephen, I am an old woman - and I say woman because I really haven't been a lady for a long time. I've buried three husbands and live the way I want to live. I've seen a great deal in my life and I've seen too many young men waste their lives. I do not want Ace to waste his life. Please, Stephen, talk to him. Make him see that there is something wonderful waiting for him out there." She waved toward a bedraggled bush of unidentifiable flora. "He is a good man, and he is simply wasting himself, working for that . . . man!" She all but spat venomously. "I see the way Acton looks at you, I see the love in his eyes. Please, as you loved your aunt, speak to him."

"Ace means that much to you?" asked The Gunner gently.

"He does," replied Sophie forcefully. "I never had children . . ." She smiled weakly. "Something to do with my plumbing."

"I'm sorry," said The Gunner. Sophie should have been a mother. She had the inner steel every mother needs.

"So am I, Stephen." Sophie shade her eyes as another motorcar wheeled into the driveway. She did not recognize the vehicle, and was not quite ready to end her conversation with Stephen Winslow. "One of my greatest regrets was not having a child. Had I had a son, or a daughter, I might not have become the Black Widow of Rosedale." She held up her hand, forestalling and comment from The Gunner. "Oh, I know what they say about me behind my back. Margaret had the courage, as does Ace, to tell me to my face what a silly old woman I am." She smiled warmly. "Of late, I have seen that courage drain from Acton. I want it back! And you are the man to give it to him!"

"I don't know if I can, Sophie," said The Gunner cautiously. "Ace is his own man, and while I do care deeply for him, what makes you think he'd listen to me?"

"He will," returned Sophie. "Ace loves you and if I know him, and I do, he will do anything to make you love him. He's taking the measure of the man he loves and he will want to please you and make you proud of him."

The Gunner shook his head. "I don't know what to say, then," he began slowly. "I've only known him for a day, and to be honest, I really don't know what to do, or what to say, to give him back what you called his courage."

"You'll think of something," replied Sophie. "You have that look about you."

"And what look is that?" asked The Gunner, intrigued.

"The look of a man who has balls!" rejoined Sophie with a laugh. She saw the startled look on The Gunner's face and continued on. "You have faith in men, Stephen Winslow, and you have a way about you that makes them want to please you, to become like you. I've only seen it once before and that was when I saw Louis Mountbatten in action."

The Gunner took a step back. "You know Louis Mountbatten?" he asked, awed.

Sophie gave The Gunner a strange look. "Of course. I met him during the war. I was a Jenny Wren!"

"You were?"

"I was," confirmed Sophie. "I joined up as soon as they opened the books for women. I was part of the first draft that went overseas." She hooked her arm through The Gunner's and led him back toward the house. "So, you see, I too am a judge of men. I saw men in their finest hour, and I saw men like your uncle. There is an aura about you, Stephen, and while you might not know it, men will listen to you, and follow you." She nodded her head to where Acton was standing, talking to a middle-aged, well-dressed man. "Even Acton," she opined with a short smile. Her eyes quickly stared into The Gunner's. "You're sleeping with him, of course."

The Gunner, recognizing the tone in Sophie's voice, was pole-axed. He gulped and his face turned red. "I . . . I . . ." he sputtered uncomfortably.

Sophie's tinkling laugh filled the small chamber, causing several heads to turn. Sophie's returned glare caused the heads to look in other directions. "Stephen, I told you, I was a Jenny Wren. I've seen men in all shapes and forms, at their best, and at their worst. I've studied men all my life and dearest, I know when they're alone, and when they've found someone."

Squirming uncomfortably, The Gunner said, "I don't know what to say."

"Then say nothing," replied Sophie. She looped arm through The Gunner's. "I'm happy for Acton. There's a brightness in his eyes that wasn't there before you came on the scene, a certain look that says he's found what he's been looking for, and for a long time." She shrugged as she began walking toward the dining room. "Frankly, I think you'll be good for the big lug."

"It won't last, Sophie," replied The Gunner. "You know my situation."

Sophie halted and stared into The Gunner's eyes. "I know, Stephen, just as I know being with you will make Acton stop and think about his ways. Margaret worried about him, and so did I. It's good to see him happy, and with someone nice and decent." She shuddered expressively. "It is such a nice change from the he-whores he's been spending his time with."

"Sophie!" The Gunner gasped, shocked at the woman's brusque honesty.

She was unrepentant. "Stephen, Acton's sexuality was never an issue. It was his lifestyle that disturbed us," Sophie replied evenly. "We might have been old, but we were not stupid." With her free hand Sophie gave The Gunner's hand a pat. "But not to worry, Margaret never let on that she knew what Acton was up to, or where he spent far too many nights, nor shall I."

Breathing a sigh of relief, if only for Acton's sake, The Gunner smiled. "In a way, I think he'd be not displeased to know that Margaret . . . he thought a great deal about her." He paused and added, "And, for some strange reason, you."

"I can't think why," returned Sophie. "I'm a mean old woman."

"No, you're not," said The Gunner kindly. "A little crazy, a little misguided, and with questionable taste in paid companions, but mean? Never!"

Once again Sophie laughed. "Well I shall accept that back-handed compliment." She began walking again, guiding The Gunner. "Now, come along, keep quiet, and . . ." she began briskly.

"Uh, Sophie, where are we going?" The Gunner asked, mystified.

"We are going to meet some people, Stephen, very important people."

The Gunner glanced at the small group of men gathered around his uncle, who was holding court within feet of his dead wife's coffin.

Sophie snorted contemptuously. "That lot? They only think that they are important. The people I am going to introduce you to are important. They might not look it; they might not act it but Stephen dear, I can assure you that nothing gets done without them. Your uncle and his 'friends' are mere cogs in a very large machine, lackeys. I am going introduce you to the true movers and shakers and Stephen, with me as your patron . . ."

The Gunner caught Sophie's unspoken meaning. This woman had power, and she was about to share it with him. He was about to enter a world he had never known existed, but a world of power and influence so great that when one of these men thundered, the Peace Tower in Ottawa trembled.