Do want to know what happened to our boys as they grew up? Here is their fate, thirty-three years after the great battles. Why thirty-three years? Trev the Hawke is why. Here is the fate of our boys after they turned into men.
The Boys of the Lady Lex Epilogue Written By Douglas DD and Benjamin T. C.
The following article appeared in the New York Times on August 8th, 2410:
The Boys of War By Evan Parker
The occasion was the induction of Trevor Collins into baseball's Hall of Fame, but there was more than that. The induction was the excuse. It was a way to get the time off, to get leave, to get schedules changed, and families packed, and to relive the moments they served thirty-three years ago in what was one of the great turning points of Earth history.
Thirty-three years ago two great battles took place against what was then the Kriton Empire. The full-scale Odessa Sector battle was fought by trained warriors using the most modern of starships and weaponry. It was the kind of battle that has filled school textbooks for centuries. But it was the other battle, the Battle of the Wormhole, which filled the hearts and minds of the people of Earth and the Sol Force Alliance. A battle fought by junior academy ships and shuttles piloted and crewed by mere school boys. It was the battle that destroyed the secret weapon the Kritons had snuck right into Earth's solar system and was the one that broke the back of the Kriton offensive.
But this isn't the story of the boys of war. It is the story of the men they became. Many of the boys didn't survive the battle, and their names are still remembered and honored. The boys who did survive saw their lives move down many different paths, just as many different paths had led them to the wormhole.
I was at the wormhole that fateful day. I was a fifteen year old sophomore on the junior academy ship "Monitor", wondering how I got stuck in the middle of a full scale battle. I was the weapons officer of a shuttle. My memories of the battle revolve around being on that shuttle, tasting the fear in my mouth as we dodged Kriton fighters and the fire of their starships, trying hard to provide enough cover so our shuttles could get through the closing wormhole and chase the ship carrying the super weapon that we had been told would destroy our home.
But this isn't my story either, or the story of the "Monitor". It is the story of the "Lexington", the ancient Lady Lex crewed by what we saw as the dregs of society; juvenile delinquents who had nothing to offer on Earth and even less to offer in space. How wrong we were, as the gallant Lady Lex held us all off in that year's Junior Olympics. The final baseball game between them and the "Orion", their bitter rivals, would determine the championship. That game was never finished. With the score tied at four to four, war broke out. The Lady Lex had won our grudging admiration, but as her shuttles shot through the wormhole, with her boys thinking not of themselves but of saving a home that had not been kind to so many of them, she won our undying admiration. The boys of the "Lexington" never hesitated and the result is that the people of Earth are still free and independent.
The fact that only shuttles of the "Lexington" made it through the wormhole was not by design. It was how things worked out, maybe because they were the most aggressive boys with a mission. Only a selfless rescue kept a shuttle from the "Orion" from entering the wormhole. Only our very aware commander kept us from entering the wormhole when it was obvious the "Lexington" shuttles had a much better chance of making it, especially if we provided cover fire. We were school boys using all we'd learned in games and applying it to reality.
Telling a history lesson isn't the purpose of this article either. The Boys of the Lady Lex grew up to be men; as did the boys of the "Orion" and the "Monitor" and the "Gettysburg". The boys who were once known as the Triple L's (Lady Lex Losers) became winners in battle and in life.
Today, the day after the induction ceremony, men with graying hair, creaky knees, balky backs, and bulging bellies set foot on the green fields of ancient Doubleday Field in Cooperstown and played the perfect game in a perfect setting. The men of the "Orion" and the "Lexington" decided to replay that game that was stopped by war thirty-three years ago. Sure, many of them played each other again in subsequent junior Olympics, but the games were in a different context, with different stakes, with different feelings.
Today's game wasn't about high stakes. It wasn't touted as the big rematch. It was attended by friends and family and this reporter. It wasn't intended to prove a thing. It was simply a way for men to come together and pay homage not only to themselves as boys, but to their comrades who never lived to see manhood.
Before, during, and after the game, I wandered the dugouts and the stands, interviewing the men of the "Orion" and the "Lexington." Thirty-three years ago the two ships had been huge rivals. The new state-of-the-art academy starship crewed by the rich and privileged versus the street boys who often never had a chance, crewing an ancient ship that had been mothballed and forgotten; an ancient ship that they had rebuilt themselves; an ancient ship that had given them a sense of pride and accomplishment they had never known before.
That the reunion was able to happen at all was the work of two men; Trevor Collins and retired Admiral Stephen Hatcher. Hatcher had been the force behind the Lady Lex experiment. The Boys of the Lady Lex were his boys. He was her captain as her boys grew up and became more they ever dreamed of being. He was her captain as she held off the Kritons at the wormhole. Along with Admiral Todd Brown, the Chief of SFA Operations, it was arranged for the men of both ships to be given the time off and the transportation to be at Cooperstown for Trevor's induction ceremony. Trevor helped arrange for the use of the field and contacted me to be the person to write about this special day.
Admiral Brown was a veteran of the Battle of the Wormhole as the Cadet Executive Officer of the "Orion". He was a senior then and the years following had been good to him. Cadet CO of the academy ship "Benjamin Franklin", he enjoyed a quick run up the command ladder after graduation until he commanded his own ship. Todd accomplished it all on his own merits. He is openly gay, once a barrier to advancement in the SFA. But times change, people change, and one of the lessons learned after thirty-three years together is that an organization built around the leadership of the best is much stronger than one built around people whose egos put themselves ahead of the organization they supposedly lead. Promote those who walk the walk had been the watchword, and Todd Brown's rising to the top is the prime example of that.
Stephen Hatcher retired as the Admiral in command of the Junior Academy program. He made it strong and viable in ways it had never been before. His shock of thick gray hair and lean body still give an air of authority to the seventy-five year old retired admiral. His sons both fought in the battle, Mark on the "Orion" and Jesse on the "Lexington", where he had volunteered to join the crew of delinquents. Both are playing in the game. Even his daughter Tina, seated in the sun-bathed stands, played a role in the battle.
The name of Trevor Collins is, of course, familiar to every baseball fan, to most sports fans, and even to those who don't know a foul ball from a field goal. He is known not only because he was perhaps the greatest right handed pitcher in baseball history, but because he is one of the most familiar names from the Battle of the Wormhole. He retired with a 363-110 record in 19 years, all with the New York Yankees. He is unquestionably one of the great icons of Yankee and New York sports history. He was Rookie of the Year, MVP the year he went 30-3 with 414 strikeouts, and the winner of eight Cy Young Awards. He won 8 World Championships. He was the author of five regular season no-hitters, including a perfect game in which he struck out 24 batters. He walked off the field on his own terms, ignoring a sore, aging arm, to throw a no-hitter against the Pittsburgh Pirates in the seventh game of the World Series.
But like so much having to do with these boys who became men, there is more to Trevor than what is on the surface; more than the statistics and the championships. There is the make-up of the man. I asked Trevor about that last game, about where the physical and mental strength came from to claw his way to the 2-0 no hit win.
"I felt things go in my arm the last month of the season," he said. "It was more than being tired. But I wanted one more ring, and I was going to make sure I got it. The mental strength goes back to those early days on the Lady Lex. I was a boy who was very much wrapped up in himself. But I had good teachers, in particular Mr. Wolfe, who taught me about being mentally strong. He taught me how to use stealth and cunning to defeat those who were stronger than you. He taught me how to use teamwork to defeat those who individually might be better than you. I never forgot his lessons."
I asked him if he thought the game was a bigger thrill than the Battle of the Wormhole.
"They were two different things. It's kind of funny in a way. When I fought at the wormhole I was a twelve year old boy fighting a man's war. When I won that game I was a forty year old man playing a boy's game."
Yesterday Trevor was inducted into baseball's Hall of Fame, elected on his first time on the ballot. His wife Ashley, his sons, sixteen year old Tyler and twelve year old Greg, and his thirteen year old daughter Emily are all in the stands enjoying the bright sun, the blue sky, the green grass, and the chance to watch their father play baseball one more time.
Trevor promised not to pitch and will be playing shortstop, hoping his arm still had the zip to fire the ball across the diamond.
The game started on time, both teams in the uniforms of their old ships, complete with logos. The sizes might have been bigger than thirty-three years ago, but nobody seemed to care. The intensity might have been less than thirty-three years ago, but nobody seemed to care about that either. The men were just happy to be together in the same place where their heated rivalry had ended because of the duplicity and deceit of their leaders. Sure, that game was on Hawking's Planet, and this game was on Earth. But to the men who were now boys again, a baseball field was a universal place, with the same green, the same dimensions in the infield, and the same feel to the grass. Maybe the fences were farther off, the stands different, the planet light years away from where they had been, but in essence a baseball field was a universal constant. It was a place where they could be boys again.
Douglas Daniels threw the first pitch to the man who had been his catcher back then, the man who had been his roommate back then, the man who was his partner now, Ben Collins. The umpire barked, "Strike one", and the smiles could be seen on both sides. David Lee of the "Orion" had challenged Douglas to a rematch someday, the game to decide the game. Neither had imagined it would take thirty-three years to play it. Sure they played each other again, but those games were not THE game, not the game that would have the memories and the feelings attached to it that this one did.
David and Douglas had once been rivals. Douglas was another volunteer member of the "Lexington's" crew. He and David had been bitter rivals since middle school on Earth. But war does strange things. Standing up for one another in battle changes the heart. They were now on opposite sides of the field, but now as friends much more than rivals.
It was the kind of rivalry that allowed an insult to be taken as the joke it was. The kind of rivalry that allowed David to ask if a fastball from Douglas was his change-up. The kind of rivalry that allowed Ben to tell David he could see the plate better of he tucked in his belly or for David to ask if the pops from Ben's aging knees were distant claps of thunder. But it wasn't the kind of rivalry that kept David from driving a change-up fastball over the left field fence and then trade friendly insults with his childhood rival.
"I didn't think you had it in you David," Douglas shouts as David rounds the bases.
"Neither did I," David says with a good natured grin. These men, these one time heroes, are boys today, but boys with confidence in who and what they are, with a maturity that was dumped on them at a young age as they had a responsibility placed on them that most grown men couldn't have handled. What was a home run when you've once saved the world?
I went up in the stands and sat next to Stephen Hatcher. The temperature was eighty, the breeze was non-existent, and the sun was powerful. He was sitting in the shade of the upper grandstand. His wife Linda, his daughter Tina, his granddaughter Maria, and his great-grandson, Eric, a restless two year old were seated in the sun. I knew of Stephen Hatcher from long before the game. I knew of him because of the "Lexington". When I was a beginning reporter had been gracious enough to grant me an interview. He told me had had a soft spot for anybody who had been at the Wormhole.
He pointed to his family seated below us, and to his granddaughters seated behind the "Orion" dugout. They were the daughters of his son Mark, two sun-kissed preteens, twelve and ten. He had three other grandchildren; a married granddaughter, and two grandsons who were both cadets on junior academy ships. They were all at the game, the teens, restless and independent, sitting where they were away from the adults but could still make sure they were being seen.
He has a son playing for each team, two men who were as different as brothers could be, and who were as close as brothers could be. They had a bond that was even a step above that of blood and family, a bond forged by danger mixed with the love of brothers.
Stephen points out that Mark and Jesse were once not close at all; that their differences meant more than the bond of blood. With a touch of sadness, he says how it took him thirteen years to learn how to love his younger son, Jesse, but that once he realized what a marvel he had fathered he wondered why it took him so long to realize it.
Mark followed his father into a career in space, though he took a somewhat different path. He is a captain for Trans-Galactic Lines, commanding great passenger star liners though the vacuum of space, transporting three thousand trusting passengers in comfort and safety. The position affords him time to be with both of his loves, space and his family, since his schedule is six weeks in space and six weeks home.
Jesse, of course, is actor Jesse Hatcher, another known name, a character actor with a Best Supporting Actor Oscar anchoring his resume. Jesse is another gay, something Stephen Hatcher had to teach himself to accept. Perhaps the number of gay boys who fought so valiantly at the wormhole helped him to see that his son had red blood in him, to see that he was a boy of courage and heart, to help him cement a reconciliation that had started even before the battle. Not only did many of the living end up being gay, so did many of the dead.
Admiral Hatcher is happy and proud that he was able to bring everyone together on this brilliant day. He is proud of his sons. The love he has for his blood family and for his "Lexington" family emanates from every pore of his body.
Our chat is interrupted by the world around us. Someone has gotten a hit and a cheer goes up. The crowd is sparse, a couple of hundred in a ballpark that seats a few thousand. But there is an energy in the stands that feeds off of the game, as the game feeds off of the energy. Our attention went back to the game as Jesse Hatcher hits a double into the gap and is then knocked in by Mike Wakeman, bringing a cheer from supporters of both sides.
Watching Jesse amble home, his still slender frame gliding over home plate brings thoughts to Stephen Hatcher of who wasn't there, not only those lost at the Wormhole, but those who died after, still young, leaving behind those who loved them.
Johnny Cooper was one such person. When Johnny died I sat down with Stephen Hatcher, asking him questions about the relationship he had with his son-in-law. History books tell part of the story. They tell how he went from a street thug and rebel to the cadet CO of the Lady Lex. They tell of how he had the position ripped out from under him, yet was still the true leader of the Lady Lex cadets as they worked to win the Junior Olympics and save their ship. The books tell how he and Tina Hatcher commandeered a shuttle and rescued his brothers and the crew of a disabled Orion shuttle. They tell of how he went to Marine Officers School, about his rise through the ranks, of how he led a group of Marines through the jungle of a newly discovered planet, with as yet unknown dangers, and of how a vicious attack of the catlike Vargons in the middle of the night wiped out his perimeter guards. The books tell of how he was sliced open by the sharp claws of his attackers, but managed to help keep them at bay long enough for most of his command to escape to safety.
What the books don't tell is how Captain Hatcher treated Johnny Cooper as a second son. They don't tell how Johnny Cooper helped him to see the love he had for his son Jesse. They don't tell how Hatcher saw the potential in the rebellious teenager and used his strengths to make him an appointed leader, then knocked him down so he could overcome his weaknesses to become a true leader. They don't tell how the once arrogant Johnny Cooper sat down with his mentor and humbly asked him for the hand of his daughter Tina, something not often done today, but something Johnny Cooper did because to him it was the right thing to do.
The history books write of Johnny Cooper the hero. Stephen Hatcher talks of Johnny Cooper, the man, who had the family he never had as a boy, who loved his three children and his wife with all of his heart, who took the dangerous mission to the surface of an unknown planet, not because he was a hero, but because it was the right thing to do. Stephen Hatcher loved his son-in-law as much as anybody in his family. Johnny's sons were eight and ten when their father died. Six years later, they show his same determination and sense of what is right. They want to follow their father into space and help continue his legacy.
Another inning starts. It's the third inning. Baseball is a timeless game, a game that allows thought, allows friendly chatter, and allows people to just sit and watch. It goes on no matter what you do, and it draws you in no matter what you're doing.
The game that was never finished, the game that ended as war started, had Douglas Daniels and David Lee as the pitchers. They were rivals before they went into space. They disliked each other, and their animosity spread to their ships until the game was not only for the survival of the "Lexington" but to show which team of boys was truly a team of men. The two asked no quarter in that game or in anything else they did.
War and danger have a way of resetting priorities, even for the young. We all know how David passed up his chance to be a "hero" by rescuing Jesse Hatcher and letting the "Savoy Special" be the last shuttle through the closing wormhole. Yet, even though Douglas commanded the shuttle that fatally hit the attacking Kriton warship, David was as big a hero. He found his sense of teamwork, he found his realization that he was not the center of the known universe, he found his heart. The history books have their heroes, but reality picks the true heroes. David Lee is a true hero, just like his one-time rival Douglas Daniels is a true hero. Just like all of the players on the field today are heroes.
The "Lexington" team takes the lead as Andrew Collins doubles to his twin brother Trevor. There are cheers, and smiles, and high fives. David wants to finish the inning, but knows he can't. Years away from the game has taken its toll. He's a businessman now, operating a farm equipment sales company on a new colony planet, helping to open a primitive planet to colonization. It is the same planet Johnny Cooper lost his life on six years before. He tells his teammates he is done and Eddie Christianson takes over pitching. David leaves to a round of applause and to handshakes from his teammates and from the rival team. The game to decide the game that never ended has turned into a baseball picnic of goodwill and friendship.
David runs out to second base, replacing Rich Zimmer, whose cranky back is acting up. While he still plays softball and is probably in better shape than David, his back often acts up, just one more reminder that boyhood has passed them all long ago. Rich Zimmer is, of course, Senator Rich Zimmer, the Western United States senator to the Earth Council. He is the consummate politician, and one can't wonder if he isn't really leaving the field so David can continue to shine in front of the friends he hasn't seen in so long.
A walk through the stands brings contact with interested parties. Friends are there, family members, former crewmates. I stop to chat, to ask questions, to listen as David's replacement takes his warm-ups. I talk to a man in his sixties or seventies. His hair is somewhat disheveled, yet he sports a neatly trimmed white beard. His clothes are rumpled, yet there is an air of authority about him. His piercing gray eyes shine with intelligence. He politely declines to answer any questions, saying only that he was a friend of the players and a baseball fan. When I ask him who had invited him, he smiled and said he had a standing invitation to everything. A tall, thin black man informs me his name is Brad Storm and his grandfather was the Chief Engineer on the "Lady Lex". I know he was referring to Ely Storm, who lost his life at the Wormhole. He said he was proud and honored to have been invited. A scruffy man with a shaved head said his name was Spencer and he had been a member of the original Birds of Prey. I find out he wasn't one of the success stories. He had just been released from prison a couple of months before.
The game starts up again as I come across Admiral Todd Brown and Chase Hunter, the retired captain of the "Orion". They introduce me to the officers around them. One is Kalon Masters, son of the infamous Jake Masters and current director of the Sol Force Alliance Junior Academy program. He was an ensign on the Lady Lex at the Wormhole, and many of the boys credit him with making them the crackerjack pilots who defeated the mighty Kritons. Masters is the circle of the Lady Lex closing, bringing her people back to their beginnings. There is Tim Whitaker, the son of another famous name, Admiral Peter Whitaker, now captain of the JFSA "Enterprise" and his partner Matt Benson. Tim is unable to play for the "Orion" because of a sprained knee sustained playing tennis. The circle closes again, and when I am introduced to Brian McDowell, the history teacher and fencing coach on the JFSA "Lexington-C" I realize the influence of the original Lady Lex continues in many subtle ways.
A new inning begins and I decide to return to the interesting stranger I had talked to earlier, but he was gone. I didn't see him again. I don't know who he was, but I would like to imagine he was the mysterious teacher, Harrison Wolfe, who disappeared the day after Trevor Collins graduated from the Lady Lex. I have no reason to think that except to satisfy my own active imagination. I make a mental note to ask the officers what Wolfe looked like, but they are once again into the game, and I forget to follow up, somewhat intentionally, perhaps because I want to maintain the air of mystery that has always been attached to his name.
I sit in the sun for awhile and watch the game unfold. I try to enjoy the game without thinking. The caliber of play is what one would expect of middle-aged men who haven't played for a long time, but it doesn't detract from the enjoyment of the game. However, I am here to think. Thinking is a big part of my job. As I watch Nipper Collins swat a looping single into right field, I think of the themes surrounding this reunion game.
Each theme could be an article in itself. The themes of old friendships and old rivalries; the theme of families, the theme one might not expect of heroes-the gay theme; the theme of the circle, of so many of the men returning to the roots that made them the heroes they became; and the theme of death, of the boys who never became men.
The theme of families intrigues me as a nice Shane Simmons, the "Orion" center fielder, ends the inning. Families are entwined in the Wormhole. There is the Hatcher family, the Collins family, the Daniels family, the Brothers family, who all bring their own connections to the game.
The brothers of the Brothers family found their way to the Lady Lex by dealing drugs to their peers, often through their church. Two of them connect the family theme and the gay theme. Carson and Scottie Brothers are gay with long time partners. Carson and Scottie own and operate Brothers Interplanetary Construction. Ian Brothers has a PhD in some obscure area of physics. He is involved in trying to recreate the Kriton wormholes, an area of knowledge that was lost when the best minds of Kriton science and their only existing notes were destroyed by the "Savoy Special" at the wormhole. Thirty-three years after the Battle of the Wormhole only a wormhole the size of a pencil has been recreated.
TJ Polaski is in right field. The themes of family, death, and gayness surround him and I wonder if I am the only one who notices it. His brother Ray died at the Wormhole and his shuttle took a direct hit from the Kritons, killing everyone aboard but him. He never returned to space-the memories were too harsh and too close.
Before the game started there was a moment of silence for those who never lived to become men, at least physically men. They died in boys' bodies, but inside they were all men. RJ Polaski, Scott Starr, Gary Banks, Tyler Young, Greg Wheeler, Travis Tucker, and Jeff Sanders are just some of the boys who should have been playing on a field of green as men. The silence is also for the men who died and never had the chance to become old, never had the chance to sit in the stands and watch a ballgame unfold as they reminisce about the good old days when their hair wasn't white and their muscles were strong. After the moment of silence, Andrew Collins played taps on his trumpet and all were reminded of their own mortality and of their own good fortune.
TJ is now a music professor and head hockey coach at Boston University. He plays right field like a hockey player, and seems almost proud of the fact. But as I watch him, a fly ball sails over his head, which he runs down, hitting Douglas Daniel, the relay man, with the accuracy of a professional.
So many men, so many stories, so many themes, so many ways to think of them and write about them that I wonder how to put it all in one feature article. Mike Wakeman is now pitching, his soft left-handed tosses confusing the "Orion" batters. Mike is a big man, but surprisingly agile for his size. The gay theme revolves around him. His partner, Ryan Thumbleton, was his "boyfriend" even before their activities landed them a berth on the Lady Lex. After graduating from the Lady Lex he decided to attend college rather than serve on an academy ship, majoring in business. He discovered the succulent tastes and flavors of Kriton cooking, not to mention the foods of other cultures. He is the founder and owner of the successful Alien Grill restaurant chain. Ryan put his artistic talents to work and is a very successful starship architect.
Watching them on the field made me wonder about the gay theme, about how many of those at the Wormhole ended up being gay. Maybe the overall percentage is no different than for the world as a whole, yet so many of the key figures fit the theme. The result is that, over the ensuing years, the citizens of Earth began to realize that their fellow gay citizens weren't a class lower on the social scale. Yes, homosexuals have had legal rights for years, but it was only after so many of our heroes, so many of the boys who saved the world ended up being gay, that we as citizens had no choice but to either disown our heroes or to give them more than equal rights. We wisely chose the latter, and now gays are truly looked upon as social equals.
Family and gay swirl around Andrew Collins, a veterinarian specializing in alien species, perhaps the leading expert on them. His partner is one of the spectators I chat with during the game. I think of him as he pops up and is followed by Nipper Daniels. His name is Nathan, but he has always been known as Nipper. He is a concert violinist, a profession that once shunned the openly gay because who would buy tickets to listen to a gay classical performer? The answer to that question is, of course, Nipper Collins. He is another famous name.
Nipper's father, retired SFA Doctor Larry Daniels sits in the stands with his wife Amanda Creevey-Daniels and their daughter Megan. He is proud of his sons, and you know he would be equally proud even if his sons hadn't been heroes and famous. He is proud of them as any father would be, because they are good people, honest people, people who have the ability to know what is right and to do what is right.
The game moves on, the shadows start to creep across the field. I talk to more spectators, to more players, to anybody who wants to answer questions. The temptation is there to spend a lot of time with the family of Trevor Collins, but there have been too many articles written about them and him the past few days. This day came about because of Trevor Collins, but it is not about Trevor Collins.
Then the game captures our attention again. The "Orion" leads 5-3, it is the bottom of the last inning, there are two outs, and the mythical winner of the game that was never finished looks like the "Orion". When Douglas Daniels singles and Trevor Collins singles there is a stirring in the crowd. It is almost as if everybody knows that this game couldn't end simply. There is too much history here, too much emotion here, to much pride to just have a simple one, two, three inning. Even a game that means nothing still means everything. It is part of the make-up of these men to have it come out that way.
Ben Collins comes to the plate representing the winning run. I find it ironic that the end of this game ends up resting with the three men who were so instrumental in the defeat of the Kritons.
Trevor Collins, the Hall-of-Famer, the sports hero, the most recognizable famous name on the field was noted for his Birds of Prey. Ian Brothers, Kyle ???, Dylan ???, Chandler ???, Brian McDowell, Spencer who doesn't want his last name used, and Trevor are remembered for their role at the Wormhole. Yet, it was their rescue of Matt Benson that in an indirect way delayed the Kriton attack, because it allowed the peace talks to progress longer and allowed Scooter Starr to figure out the secret of the wormholes, which allowed the junior academy ships to be where they needed to be to create their heroes.
The "Savoy Special" is at the SFA Museum of Space Exploration at Cape Kennedy, Florida and the original "Lexington" is in orbit around Saturn's moon, Titan, as part of the SFA Space History Museum. The ships are legends now, just like the boys who became men are legends.
Yet the two names most linked with the Wormhole, the two who are at the top of the list of names in the history books are Ben Collins and Douglas Daniels. Douglas was the commander of the "Savoy Special" and Ben was the pilot who preformed a maneuver that is still considered next to impossible. They are linked with the battle, with each other, and with Earth history so that their names are almost inseparable.
I remember talking to them as the school year started late because of the battle and the war. I was waiting for my transportation back to the "Monitor" and they were staging to be returned to the "Lexington". I was about to start my junior year and they were about to start as sophomores. I was prepared to meet two boys who were now heroes and therefore full of themselves. Instead I met two boys who were instantly likeable, who had the same worries I did about the late start and the new students, and would there be new teachers, and what challenges school and space itself would hold. They were both slated to be senior officers even though they were underclassmen, but for all I could tell they were just a pair of regular cadets returning to school. I learned through the years that my first impression of them was indeed exactly what they were like, a pair of bright, likeable, classy individuals. Earth couldn't have had a better pair of heroes, which of course was one of the reasons the meaning of the gay word changed, for the gay theme revolved around them as well.
Douglas, of course, has made his mark as a space explorer, still a bit of a hero, still with his name in the news. He was about to become captain of the newly commissioned "Thomas Jefferson", a ship whose chief designer was Ryan Thumbleton-another circle closing. The "Thomas Jefferson" was built to go deeper and faster into space than any starship-the first of a new class of starships.
Ben had made his mark as well, as the author of best selling science fiction books. His books are more than sci-fi, however, they are literary sci-fi, books that add thought and action and intriguing characters and plot. I have enjoyed more than one evening discussing writing with Ben. Finding him to make an appointment was never the easiest thing. Ben and Douglas are still partners just like Mike and Ryan. As Douglas became a senior SFA officer, Ben was able to travel with him, able to explore space and see the settings for his exotic stories.
I ask Douglas about his relationship with Ben and how the gay theme revolves around the Wormhole.
"First of all," he says, "most of the boys at the Wormhole married, have kids, and are what we still like to call normal. But Ben and I are normal, too. We have two adopted sons who travel with us now that families can be accommodated on long journeys of exploration." Their two son, Gary, fourteen, and Travis, eleven, are among those seated in the stands, watching with some amusement as their fathers try to look good at a game they haven't played in so long. "Ben and I have been together for over thirty years. How many straight couples can say the same thing?" Statistically, not many, not for any type of couple.
I ask Douglas about some of the revisionist history, saying there was no bomb going through the wormhole, that the "Shakala" was a spy ship and not a science ship carrying a weapon of mass destruction. They are the histories saying mere boys could never have saved the planet, especially boys tangled up in the gay theme.
Douglas laughs and says anybody can say anything they want as long as they are willing to ignore the facts. The people of Earth have seen the evidence and rejected the revisionist writings as strongly as they have embraced their heroes for three decades.
Ben digs in at the plate, a one strike count on him, his partner, the space hero, on second, his brother, the Hall of Fame hero, on first, ready to become the game hero, ready to give his next swing his total effort, ready to become the hero of the replay of the game that never ended, to bring an end to a game that has no meaning yet means everything at the same time. The sparse crowd is cheering; friends, family, maybe even a mysterious stranger, dotting the stands, invested in a game ready to play itself out to a finish in the shadows of the summer afternoon. Had they wanted, the players could have sold tickets, sold out the ballpark, sold out Yankee Stadium, brought in the television cameras, made the game a galaxy wide spectacle, made it more than it was intended to be. Maybe this is why it's so right to play the game three decades later.
Trevor acknowledged it would have been nice to have a crowd there, then said, "But it's not why we're here. When I was younger I would have wanted everyone to watch this game, I would have played it for the audience. But today, we are playing it for ourselves, for each other, and for those of us who never had the chance to be here. This game is about the Lady Lex' and the Orion' and that's fine with all of us."
So instead of thousands of voices, there are a couple of hundred. Instead of hearing a concerted roar, one can hear the sounds of a young boy's voice shouting, "Come on dad! Hit a homer dad!"
Ben Collins looks at the "Orion" pitcher, a smile creasing his face. He has heard the only voice he needs to hear. The sounds of thousands doesn't interest him. The sound of the boy shouting encouragement to his dad is all he needs to hear. The pitch is thrown, it's up in the zone, it's where Ben loved it when he was young and carefree and his knees popping didn't sound like crackling thunder, and so it's exactly where he loves it now, as the boy in his heart springs loose and swings the bat and hears it hit the ball with a satisfying crack leaving no doubt he got it all as the players in the dugout and the spectators in the grandstand rise to their feet and follow the arcing ball, follow the left fielder running to the fence, then slowing as he realizes pursuit is futile and all he can do is watch the ball drop over the fence.
Douglas scores and waits, Trevor scores and waits, Ben crosses the plate to the hugs of his lifelong partner, the hugs of his hero brother, then the hugs of his teammates, his crewmates, his friend whom he hadn't seen in so long.
The "Lexington" wins 6-5, but nobody is concerned about the score. Nobody cares that those once known as the Triple Ls came out on top, because there are no losers here. They are our heroes, these men who just finished playing a boys game for the sheer joy of it. These men who will now return to their lives, knowing they had a bit of closure in those lives. The game that never ended has ended. What mattered was not who won, but that somebody won.
I walk on to the field as David hugs his one time rival Douglas. David tells him to stop by and visit if he is ever near his home planet and that he hopes that is soon. Douglas looks at David and tells him that the last time he said "soon" it was thirty-three years before anything came to pass.
The Hatchers are together on the field-all of them. They are a big family, a happy family. They are a family that can stand on a green baseball diamond under a blue sky on the planet Earth because of the men in that family and because of the men around them. They can do it because those men were at the Wormhole. It was exactly as Trevor put it about his own career. Then they had been boys fighting a man's war, today they were men playing a boys game, but with a touch more. They still had the boy in their heart, still had an unspoiled part of them that could play a game for the love of the game, for the love of each other.
They were more than heroes and famous names, more than starship captains and Hall of Fame baseball players and businessmen and teachers and politicians and scientists and artists...today they were what they always wanted to remain in their hearts...they were the Boys of the "Orion" and the Boys of the Lady Lex.
Note: for you baseball fans wanting to see Trev's lifetime statistics, drop us an e-mail and we will send you an Excel spreadsheet page of the Hawke's career. Ben and I both wish to thank those who helped us. We each wrote our own thank you notes, and I was ordered not to read his until after I wrote mine. So, if they end up duplicating each other, forgive us. It just means we are doubly grateful to those who helped
I wish to thank Scooter, who helped with proofreading the early stages of the story. I wish to thank one of our loyal readers, Richard, who volunteered to take over proofreading duties mid-way through the story after Scooter no longer could help. His help in cleaning up our grammar and syntax was wonderful. It is always a good thing to have a retired teacher backing one up.
I want to thank my dear friend Mike the Donkey for reading everything ahead of time, making innumerable suggestions to our plot, watching over our continuity, and most importantly, for refereeing the inevitable disputes that arise when two strong headed boys try to write a cohesive story together.
Thanks also, to all of you who wrote us. Your e-mails were our inspiration, and when things got rough, or the ideas wouldn't come, Ben and I remembered you were out there eagerly awaiting our next chapter.
And of course, I want to thank Ben for dragging me into this project. Ben had started Lady Lex and it bogged down on me. He asked me if I wanted to help him jump start it and write it along with him. Little did we know we had given birth to a two year project. Ben, thanks for asking me to take part in one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life.
Douglas DD
Wow, who would have thought back in early February of 2004 when I first approached Douglas about writing a story together, that 21 months later we would be posting the last chapter. I hope that you all enjoyed this thrilling ride like I have. This was by far one of the most challenging, yet most rewarding writing projects I have ever done. This is one ride I will never forget and always will remember with fond memories.
There is so many people I want to give a heart felt thanks too. First I want to thank All those who we modeled characters after. There are way too many to name, but you know who you are. Thank you so much for inspiring me to write something that many people enjoyed.
I like to thank Scooter and Richard. Scooter started us off as our proofreader and Richard took over the daunting task of proofreading about halfway through. Thank you for both of your hard and dedication. I know it was no easy task to do.
A big thank you goes out to Mike the Donkey for so many different things. But I think the most important thing is that Mike was the peacekeeper. When he saw problems brewing between Douglas and me over certain aspects of the story, he would act as a donkey arbitrator and save the day. Matter of fact, if Mike didn't intervene in the very beginning, the Lady Lex would have crashed at take off. Thank you so much Mike for helping Douglas and me through this.
Another thanks goes to Tim the Jester. Oh how I miss you and hope you are able to come back on again on a regular basis, but you were a great help Tim. You inspired me and let me bounce ideas off of you. I felt it was so important to me to bounce ideas off of an impartial person who enjoys the art of writing as much as I do. Thank you Tim. You helped me so much through some dark writing times.
I also like to thank you, the reader. If it wasn't for you all, this story wouldn't have been enjoyed by so many. All of your emails help motivate and inspire both Douglas and me to continue on this long journey. There were times when both of us wanted to give up and call it quits, but you, the reader, gave us the strength we needed to continue on this voyage and see it to the end. Thank you.
And last, but definitely not least, a big thank you goes out to Douglas my writing partner. Douglas, I love you so very much. I know it hasn't been an easy task working with me as a writing partner. But without you, this story would have never made it past chapter 4. As you know, I started Lady Lex once before by myself and it just wasn't working out. But then I restarted it , this time with you and look what we accomplished. I do hope that one day we will be able to go out together on another adventure in writing.
I'm sure I am missing some people to thank, but please know that a thank you goes out to everyone who has helped in making The Boys of Lady Lex a wonderful read. I hope to see you all around again sometime in another story.
-Benjamin T.C.