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Note: As noted in Chapter 16, portions of this chapter take place in an alternate timeline in which most of America is dominated by a theocratic dictatorship, the 'Free Holy Republic.' Events on that timeline occur 'at angles' to the CSU time, so that the week which goes by there is equivalent to only a few minutes away on the CSU timeline, in late morning Saturday for the Arkham group and just before bedtime Saturday for the four boys from Orlando. Also please take note that the opening scene here takes place from the viewpoint of an abused and brainwashed boy, and includes memories of abuse that may be very disturbing to some readers. The authors and CSU Productions wish to make it very clear that in portraying such abuse, they are in no way condoning it, but rather depicting it as the evil that it is.
Terry hurt.
The pain in his back and sides from the 'precautionary discipline' didn't seem to be easing, despite Jacky's gentle ministrations with the precious numbing oil. The lash had opened up some of the old welts, and they hurt. Terry felt vaguely guilty that Jacky was using so much on him, but High Pastor Thornworth had disciplined him longer and harder than usual.
"He opened the welt on your shoulders again," Jacky said, gently pressing the ointment into it. Terry wondered if Jehovah had told Pastor Thornworth about his evil thoughts, and that was the reason why he'd gone on so long.
Terry stirred uncomfortably. His thing had developed a reckshum as Jacky's hands went gently over his back, and he felt guilty about that. He knew from religion class that reckshums were the sign the Devil was attacking. He lifted the cold washcloth to his face, and wiped away some more of Pastor Thornworth's devil-juice. Unlike most of the church's hierarchy he and the other kids helped, Pastor Thornworth didn't want a kid's help pumping out the devil-juice. He did it with his own hand; Terry's job was just to neutralize it by letting Pastor Thornworth's thing squirt it onto his face. Pastor Thornworth called that a 'fay-chill,' Terry remembered.
He felt a stir of pride that he was one of fourteen kids from the Free Holy Republic chosen to help the church's leaders banish the Devil when he attacked them. When the Devil attacked, the High Pastors and other officials would get reckshums, and then it was the kids' job to suck out the devil-juice or let them pump it into their bottoms -- children being, according to the theology, immune to the Devil's power and able to neutralize his juice by their innocence. For some reason, the Devil seemed to attack the High Pastors most often when they had one of the children stripped for discipline. Terry was afraid that his getting reckshums might mean he would no longer be able to help the leaders defeat the Devil when he attacked. He took consolation from the fact that Manuel was still a part of the group. Though the same age as Terry, 12, the Hispanic boy had developed early, and his thing was nearly as big as some of the High Pastors' ones. And he got reckshums when they teamed up to help the Supreme Pastor. In fact, once the Supreme Pastor had made the great sacrifice of risking his own holy person by sucking the devil-juice out of Manuel, before pumping it in turn into Terry. So if Manuel could still help defeat the Devil, Terry figured he had some time yet.
What really worried Terry was that sometimes he got a reckshum when he and Trent cuddled after being disciplined and helping High Pastors defeat the Devil's attacks. He really loved Trent, and he was worried that, that love was a weakness the Devil was exploiting to attack him. He couldn't help the High Pastors defeat the Devil's attacks on them if the Devil could attack him too.
"That's sick," he heard in his mind -- and tensed up, and then regretted it as all his back muscles ached again. Only his twin brother Jerry had been able to talk to him in his mind, and Jerry was gone. He'd made the mistake of arguing with a new High Pastor, who had been forced to discipline him -- and Jerry had never come to after the discipline. 'We must have been really bad, to need that much discipline,' he thought.
Abruptly Terry shook himself. If he kept thinking about Jerry's death, he'd start having sinful thoughts about the High Pastors again, and he knew that was bad.
"And we thought Jimmy and Davie had it bad!" Jerry said in his mind again.
"These guys really got brainwashed," Jerry said, apparently answering himself.
Terry was really concerned now. He was hearing his dead brother's voice in his head -- and it sounded like there are two of him, arguing with himself!
"Hey, the one on the table can hear us!" Jerry said.
'Now, that's weird,' Terry thought. 'Why's he talking like that? For that matter, am I going crazy, hearing my dead brother?'
"We're gonna have a real job helping these guys straighten their minds out," Jerry said, echoing himself with "Tyler can help, Jamie. And don't underestimate Maureen's mothering; she's almost as good as Teri at it."
"We're twin brothers, but we're not your twin brother," Jerry said in Terry's mind. Then, "Hey, Kyle, uncloak us. We need to get these guys out of here, and then try to reverse the brainwashing."
Abruptly four boys appeared standing next to the first set of bunks, right next to the locked door that protected their quarters from intruders. "You boys gather in the middle of the room," one of the strawberry blonds said. "We're getting you out of here, to a place of safety."
Joe made to object, but Manuel waved him down. "These are the angels of deliverance my Mama promised would come, just before they took me from her," he said.
Kyle grinned. "First Justy, now you two. Must run in the family, being mistaken for angels," he said to Jamie and Jacob. They giggled.
Jacob spoke up. "Don't forget the girls!" he said.
"Oh, yeah," said Kyle. Gesturing at Jacky, he said, "Show me where their quarters are."
"We can't go there; the door's locked," Jacky said.
Kyle lifted his arm and pointed at the door, which vaporized. "Now it isn't," he said.
The kitchen of Grace's house that night was an incongruous sight: half operating theatre, half normal residential kitchen. Pen lay face down, pantsless, on an ironing board set at thigh level, the top padded by a folded-up comforter. Skipper was opening up his old Navy Corpsman kit; Grace was drawing basins of hot water with and without antiseptic soap, which Doug carried over to the table next to the ironing board. Bobby was, equally incongruously, loading a hypodermic syringe from a small bottle, having washed Pen's buttocks with antiseptic-soapy water and then with hot rinse water.
"I think Bobby should go ahead and do the injection to numb the site," Skipper said to Grace. "He needs to learn how, and no better time to teach him than when we're both here to guide what he's doing, and in bright room light as well." Busy at the sink, Grace taciturnly gave him a thumbs-up over her shoulder. "Okay, Bobby," he continued, "After your mother gets over here, you'll be injecting the Novocaine about an inch from the tear, and away from the sphincter pucker. If you numb the sphincter, he won't have any bowel control."
"And that would be a really shitty situation," Grace called out as she finished washing up, with surgical gloves on. She motioned Skipper to come over and wash, joining her son. Bobby pointed with the needle; she nodded, and he pressed it slowly in, depressing the syringe until Grace made a 'cut' gesture.
"When's he going to give me the shot?" Pen asked.
"He just did," Grace said, then, to Bobby, "Painless insertion on the first try. Congratulations!"
"What'd your father have to say?" Bobby asked Pen.
"He was tied up on a business call," Pen answered. "I told Jenkins what we agreed on, that you guys had invited me to a sleepover. Father's been after me to get more of a social life, so he should be happy with that."
"Do you want to call?" Grace asked Doug.
"Nah, my mother's probably too drunk to answer the phone by now. And she won't care, anyway."
"Well, I'm glad you're staying. Somebody needs to be within arm's reach of Pen, just to be cautious, all night. If you don't mind sleeping in with him, that means I don't have to stay up," Grace said. "All you need to do is, if he starts bleeding or hurting worse, come wake up one of us."
"Jondo volunteered to take the couch, when I told him what was happening," Bobby said. The boy they had found earlier in the week still could not recall much beyond endless, painful surgeries and exercises; when Skipper referred to him as 'our John Doe,' he laughed and adopted it as his name: 'Jondo'.
"Can you feel this?" Skipper asked, touching a metal probe next to the tear.
"Feel what?" Pen responded.
"He's ready," Skipper said. Grace reached and pinched together the tear; Skipper gently but firmly inserted a needle, drawing surgical thread through the skin to close it, then again, and again. "Hmm, I think those six stitches should do it," he said at length.
"One more, here," Grace said, pointing.
Skipper nodded and took a final stitch. "There you go, Pen," he said. "Doug, give me a hand helping him off this board. It was the one thing on hand that would allow laying him out at the right level and spreading his legs to get access to the tear, but he's not going to be comfortable trying to get off it without help." Together they helped him down; Bobby handed him a wrap-around bath kilt.
"Not that you really need to worry about modesty with us," he said, smiling. "But at least it'll help preserve your dignity."
Grace rummaged in a closet for a few seconds, then came out with what appeared to be a giant foam doughnut. "Here, sit on this," she said.
"What is it?" Doug asked in a mystified tone.
"Hemorrhoid pillow," she said shortly. "It helps people sit comfortably when their butt hole's sore -- which I think adequately describes Pen right now." She smiled at him.
"Thanks," Pen said. "I can't believe how nice you guys are being after what happened."
Skipper caught Grace's eye, and gestured with his head. "Time for man talk," she said. "If anybody wants me, I'll be in watching TV with Jondo." And fitting action to word, she walked towards the living room.
"Dump those basins, please, Doug, and set 'em over in that corner," Skipper said. "Bobby, give me a hand closing up this kit again." He removed and folded the comforter, folded up the ironing board, and turned his attention to his Corpsman kit.
"Let's get the medical stuff out of the way first," Skipper said, packing things away efficiently. "Those stitches should heal in a few days. You'll want to be careful sitting for a week or so. And I'd avoid anal sex if I were you for at least that long, to avoid risking tearing that back open before it's done healing." Pen blushed scarlet and looked chagrined. "I'll also need you to officially sign off on my having performed the procedure on you; I'm legally entitled to, as a trained Corpsman, but not as an EMT. So I need to keep a record that you willingly consented to minor surgery from me."
"Sure," Pen said.
"But," Skipper continued, "I really need to have you checked by a proctologist to make sure there's no internal tears from Tony forcing you. A tear in your rectum can kill you if it gets septic -- and it's the perfect environment to grow germs. I'll respect that you don't want to do that where your father can find out, if you agree to whatever Harry and Jonas can come up with. They have some kind of in with Starfleet or something, that'll never get back to him."
"You're sure?" Pen asked.
"I don't know the details, but yeah," Skipper answered. "They'll keep your secret, and I know they have access to advanced medical technology. So no worries there." He drew a breath. "But there's something more important to talk about -- why you let yourself get into this mess in the first place."
Sylvia rose and walked briskly to the door. A look of surprise was quickly replaced by a warm smile. "Lizbeth, come in!," she said welcomingly. "What brings you here?"
A rather buxom 30-year-old woman with reddish-brown hair dressed in police-uniform slacks and blouse, badge in place, walked into the room. "You're the McKendrick brothers, right?" she said.
Mickey pulled Raffy to him protectively; Jared looked aghast. "Yes, ma'am," Mickey answered. "May I ask why you're looking for us?"
"Oh, good," the policewoman answered. She pulled a walkie-talkie from her belt, and activated it. "Headquarters, this is O'Brien. On station with the McKendricks until further notice. Out." She replaced it on her belt.
"What in the world?!" Sylvia said. "Lizbeth, there better be a good explanation for this. These boys have done nothing wrong."
"Oh," said Lizbeth, "I should have explained first. There's been an attack on people under the protection of Clan Short, like you boys. City Police HQ got a call direct from Admiral Morrow's office at Starfleet HQ, urgently requesting us to provide armed protection to you three and a woman named Rina Baldwin, who apparently lives next door. Do you know how I can get in touch with her?"
"You just did," said Rina. "I'm her. Are Jed and C.J. all right?"
"I'll check," Lizbeth said, again activating her walkie-talkie. "O'Brien to HQ. The Baldwin woman is here with the McKendricks. She wants to know the status of two people named Jed and C.J..." "Templeton," Rina supplied. "...Templeton. Over." She listened to the response, and then said, "They've been sent to the hospital..." All five faces registered shock; Rina and Jared burst into tears. "...in Charleston, to help with the wounded there. They're okay themselves." Rina and Jared both jerked their heads up in relief at that news.
"Would you like some coffee, ma'am?" Mickey asked.
"I'd love some," she said.
"And I have some of your favorite Turtles cheesecake in the fridge," Sylvia said warmly. Lizbeth grinned, and licked her lips.
"Turtle cheesecake?" Raffy said with a 'that's-gross' expression on his face.
"No, it's cheesecake made with chocolate, caramel, and pecans, like Turtles candy," Sylvia said. "That's where the name comes from. Want some?" Raffy's grin was answer enough; her eyes caught Jared's and Mickey's faces. "You too, Rina?" she asked.
As Sylvia went to the kitchen, Lizbeth continued, "I want to move you three out of line-of-sight from the front door, just as a precaution. We don't yet know who attacked or what their resources are, but I want to take what precautions we can. I'll be on duty here until relieved. I hope you weren't planning on going anywhere today."
"No, nothing planned," Rina said. "Do you have any idea what's happening?"
"Not much more than I've already said," Lizbeth answered. "There was apparently a terrorist attack on that deputy sheriff up in Montana that was in the news --- his family is under Clan Short protection. The Clan responded to help them, and it turned into a pitched battle. And apparently there's quite a lot of casualties on both sides."
C.J. looked around. There were some Clan members here and there, some kids in military fatigues who were obviously from The Unit, and a number of others, mostly looking lost. Brian was talking with Derek and Nikolai, and clearly happier now. He noticed two boys with expressions he recognized -- they looked like Jed had, right after they'd transported to Clan Headquarters. He caught Jed's attention and pointed. "That's where we're needed," he said.
"Why them?" Jed asked, not so much arguing as trying to understand.
"Because when I see their faces, I see yours when you were shutting everybody out, after Mom and Dad were killed," C.J. said. "There's people here smarter than us, been through more than us, but them -- you'll understand them better than anybody. You've been there, inside your own head. That's what we came here to do." Gone was the eight-year-old tagalong; C.J. was The Boy Who Knows What Needs to Be Done, like in stories he'd read, and he felt a sense of, well, it felt like grown-up-ness, come down and strengthen him, to do the job he and his brother were supposed to do.
Jed nodded. "Let's go meet them," he said. He walked over. "Hi, my name's Jed, and this is my little brother C.J. Who're you guys?"
"Leave me 'lone!" the younger kid said.
"Okay," Jed said. Winking at C.J. with the eye away from the two boys, he asked his little brother to get them each a juice. As C.J. went to run that errand, Jed sat down three seats down from the two dejected boys.
C.J. came back moments later with juice containers. "Thanks, bro," Jed said to him, continuing, "And thanks again for slapping me upstairs." He caught C.J.'s eye, and willed him to understand what he was doing. "When I saw all those wounded people and all that blood upstairs, it was like finding Mom and Dad lying killed on our living room floor all over again. And I nearly went back into that bit of feeling despair and shutting out the world again."
"I'm glad you didn't," C.J. said, trying to play along. "You were shutting me and everybody else out, and wouldn't let any of us help you, back then. I was afraid you were gonna be mad at me for slapping you, though."
"No," Jed said. "I was pissed at first, but almost immediately I realized what you were doing and why. I never want to go into that despair and shutting people out again," he finished, leaning on the last phrase.
The older boy from down the table looked up with eyes full of pain and an odd expression on his mouth. "You're being kind of obvious, you know," he said.
"Yeah, well, it worked, it got you talking," Jed said challengingly. "Now you know we've been there, how about telling us. Maybe we can't do anything, but maybe we can. And it won't hurt to try."
"You're just kids, you can't do anything," the younger boy said.
The older boy added, "And we're screwed anyway. Tom's dead, they're gonna take us away from Mom, and...."
"Whoa," Jed said. "Slow down. Who's Tom and why are they going to take you away from your Mom? In fact, who's 'they'?"
"Yeah, I guess I skipped some stuff. Okay, Tom was our big brother. He was in the Cadets, and he reported for duty this morning. His squad leader had us and the other kids that tagged along with their brothers come here. Tom got shot in the head, he's dead." The pain on the boy's face was evident, but he was doing his best to keep himself together. The younger boy began to cry softly. "I'm sorry, Lije, I know it hurts. It does me too." C.J. got up and walked over, laying one arm across the crying boy's shoulders.
"Oh, I'm Nate, and that's my little brother Lije," the older boy said.
"I'm Jed, and that's my kid brother C.J.," Jed answered. "I'm sorry about your brother. But what's the deal with them taking you away from your Mom?"
Lije looked up. "Our daddy used to get drunk," he said. "He was drunk and Marie got sick...."
"Marie was our little sister," Nate interjected.
"...and daddy insisted on driving them to the hospital -- Mom and Marie. He wrecked the car, and Marie got killed in the accident. And they had to take off Mom's right hand."
"Social Services was going to take us from Mom, 'cause she couldn't take care of us with only one hand," Nate said. "Our case worker wants to put us in a 'good Christian home with a father and mother.' The judge let Mom keep us only because Tom said he'd be there, and he was old enough to help. Now he's gone, and Miss Nadine's just been waiting the chance to take us away from Mom. You know she's gonna take us now!"
Jed spoke quietly into his subvocal. "Ark, where's Cory?"
< Cory is in bed recuperating from wounds and loss of blood, Jed. Do you want Sean? >
"Yes, please. Is he here at the hospital?"
< Yes, and heading for Cory's room. Shall I bring him here? >
"If it's OK, please," Jed answered.
A split second later, an irritated Sean was standing next to C.J. "Ark, I need to get to Cory!" he said.
< Cory is talking with someone who needs to hear what he has to say, and the reverse > Ark said. < From my understanding of Clan Law and powers, your authority is needed by these boys, now. >
"This is Lije and Nate," Jed said. "Their brother was a Cadet who got killed today..."
"Guys, I'm sorry," Sean said, sympathy evident on his face.
"...and he was the only reason that Social Services wasn't taking them from their mother, who's missing a hand, and placing them with 'a good Christian family'." Jed's sarcasm at the last four words was thick enough to cut with a knife. "I'll try to get the details later, but I've heard enough to warrant intervention."
"Agreed," Sean said. "In fact ... Ark, record this and transmit it to Justy, please." His face blanked and he seemed to draw together, look older and taller. "By the authority vested in me by Ambassador Sarek and through him by the Vulcan High Council, I place ... your names, please?"
"Nathaniel Lewis and Elijah Lewis." Nate said after a moment's stunned silence.
"I place Nathaniel Lewis and Elijah Lewis and their mother under the protection of Clan Short, overriding any and all earthly authority, and I place Nathaniel and Elijah in the temporary custody of their mother, until such time as we can provide necessary assistance to them," Sean concluded. "It is presumed such placement will be made permanent after determining what assistance she may need to maintain her family. This ends the record, Ark."
"And Social Services and the courts are going to listen to him?" Nate said. "I appreciate the thought, but I don't think so!"
"You guys ever hear of Jason Mitchell?" Sean asked conversationally.
Nate thought for a second. "He was a guitarist, used to hang around with Backstreet and N*Sync, until he broke both hands last summer. Story behind that got all hushed up, I think."
"Oh, yeah," Sean said. "He didn't break his hands, his hands were broken. By the son of the Vulcan man whose authority I just invoked, for having dared to hurt a kid. The same man who, by coincidence, is in charge of four states, including South Carolina, right now under martial law."
"I'd love to see Miss Nadine tangle with him," Lije said, beginning to get a wicked grin on his face.
"Can you handle the rest of this, Jed? I really want to get to Cory," Sean said. Jed nodded yes, and Sean headed for the stairs.
Kyle disintegrated the door to the girls' area with one short blast. Inside, three young girls were cowering near their bunks, with a fourth, about 13 from her looks, lying on her back on a low padded table. The robes of the High Pastor standing at the end of the table opposite her head were thrown back, revealing a large erection and hairy groin. He had spun at the sound of the boys' entry, and was fumbling with his robes, apparently reaching for a weapon.
Tyler reached out a hand and immobilized him with his thoughts. Kyle grinned, and gestured. Immediately the man's erection was surrounded by a thin glass sheath. "If that's broken, it'll shatter into nice sharp shards," he said to the immobilized High Pastor. Another thought, and a small steel mallet appeared in the hand of the girl on the table. "I won't harm you," Kyle said. "I'll just leave you immobile until someone comes to rescue you. But if this young lady wants revenge for being used...." He let the thought drop.
Tyler turned to the girls. "Come with us to where the boys are. We'll take you all to safety. This place is due to be attacked by the Caretaker States and the starship we gave them. Not a safe place for kids." Stunned, the three younger girls followed his lead, and Kyle brought up the rear. As they left the room, the sound of breaking glass could be heard behind them, and the fourth girl hurried to catch up.
Kyle popped into existence on the bridge. Captain Simmons' eyes widened briefly, and he acknowledged the boy with a nod.
"We have the children safely removed from the citadel," he told the captain. "Proceed at your leisure."
Tyler meanwhile popped in with the group in the Forward Lounge. "We're ready to go back to La Casa," he said shortly. "Jamie and Jacob are there with the kids we rescued already." He paused, scanning the future. "Mr. Romero, they'll be in touch with you shortly, by your own time. We'll be tied up; be ready to give them the help they'll need."
Moments later, Tyler and the four from Arkham vanished. Ensign Romero shook his head, and alerted the Bridge.
Clad in bright Bermudas, George and Philip were having a good-natured swimming race, each with a twin perched on his back and grinning from ear to ear. Suddenly, sixteen children, naked or in the skimpiest of clothing, appeared on the beach. Two were Jamie and Jacob; ten boys and four girls, ranging in age from eight to thirteen, accompanied them. Jamie called out, "Drew! Randy! We need you here!"
The younger twins slipped off the backs of their father and brother and swam easily to shore. "Who's these guys?" Randy asked.
"We rescued them; their heads are messed up," Jacob answered. "Take a look; we'll need your help fixing the mess."
As the four twins began scanning minds, Kyle, Tyler, Maureen, Jonas, Josiah, and Harry popped into existence nearby.
Tyler quickly took a feed from Jamie of what the situation was, fed it to the other five, then motioned everyone to sit. The fourteen rescuees seemed stunned. George and Philip came walking up from the shoreline. The oldest girl watched them carefully.
"Okay," Kyle said. "For you non-psychic types, these kids have been severely brainwashed into being the willing sex toys of the top of the Free Holy Republic priesthood. The bull they were fed is that their innocence neutralizes the attacks of the devil -- who made the priests horny. So the kids neutralized his attacks by letting the priests get off on them. They also got whipped regularly, as 'preventative discipline' if you will. To make it worse, Tyler and I can't revert their minds to before they were brainwashed -- too much has happened to them since then, such as Terry's twin brother being killed by the priests. And yeah, he's another telepath that needs training."
Jamie took over. "What's going to happen is that Tyler and Kyle will heal their bodies -- the scars and welts from the beatings, the stuff from adult males having used them for sex without thought of the consequences, and all that. Meanwhile Jacob, Randy, Drew, and I will lift as much as we can of the brainwashing, with the Mikyvises pitching in when they're done with bodies. George, I'm sorry, but your twins are going to get a crash course in the seamiest sort of sexual abuse before they're eight -- we really do need their help. They'll probably have questions later -- answer them frankly; they'll already know the what, but probably will have trouble understanding the why." He paused. "Are we four in agreement?"
"Okay, then," Jacob took over. "Maureen, Jonas, Josiah, Harry, what happens next is on you. If you're willing, when we're done we can transport them a week into the future back on Earth, and entrust them to you?"
"To us?" Jonas asked. "Why?"
"Because even without the brainwashing, they have almost no positive self-image, and they need to be helped building that up. You and your mom and the judge are great at that, and Harry's been doing it recently enough to be able to empathize and be the helping hand they need."
"We were planning to take in kids that need help," Josiah said, "but there's no way we could get something ready for fourteen kids in a week."
"No problem," said Kyle. "The Clan has resources. My cuddlebunny and I just built a starship; think a house expansion is going to be too much for us?" He grinned.
"And you'll have help," said Tyler. "Kyle, can you see through this cloudy bit?"
"Nope," Kyle said to him. "There's a small element of the future being deliberately obscured to us, but what we are allowed to see is that you four get ongoing help from someone you all love very much. And it looks like whoever it is has almost as much abilities as the two of us do, which is really strange."
"Bottom line," said Jacob. "These kids are going to need help putting themselves back together, and a loving home while they're doing it. The main Clan is going to be up to their butts in alligators..."
"With passports," Tyler interjected with a giggle. Jacob scowled at him.
"...and you have the skills they need." Jacob continued. "Anything you may need to make it work, we can give you. What we can't give is the focused attention on building them into self-assured confident caring young people that they need and that you can give. I don't know about what those two are seeing in the future, but apparently you've got help coming we can't know about yet, and I'll try to make time for regular visits too."
Josiah gathered the eyes of the other three. "It sounds like we've got a job cut out for us -- and something that matters to Maureen and me, and I think to you two as well." Harry nodded, Jonas followed suit a second later. "I've never seen the Clan fail to make good on their word, no matter how far-fetched -- shall we agree?" Nods from all three. Josiah turned to Tyler. "Then let it be done."
The two Mikyvises and four telepaths then began work. Moments later, Jacky broke into tears and ran to Maureen, who held and comforted him. Another minute and Manuel turned stonily and began walking down the beach. A nod from Jamie was all it took for Jonas to catch up with him and drop his arm over the younger boy's shoulder. He sighed, clearly released tension, and leaned into Jonas. Then Trent got a terrified look, and Terry got up from his place on the beach to comfort him.
Harry looked up. "Drew, gimme," he said -- and got a shocked look as Drew dumped what had happened to Trent into his mind. He walked over and caressed the younger boy between the shoulder blades -- the thing Trent's mother had done to calm him when he was little, as Harry now knew. He lifted Terry's chin and looked him in the eyes. "Let them finish helping you, Terry, then you can help me help Trent," he said. Terry smiled for the first time; Harry smiled back.
One by one the six cleared clouded minds and healed bodies, and the kids joined their fellows taking comfort. Little Joey walked over to Josiah. "You won't hurt me, sir, will you?" he quavered.
"No, when we get you to your new home, our home, my job there is to make sure those who treat kids the way you were treated are properly punished for doing so. I'm supposed to protect kids, not misuse them the way you were misused." Josiah's voice was low and as kindly as he could make it. He saw Joey screw up his courage, and opened his arms. The boy fell into them with tears of relief.
George and Philip looked on as all this was going on. Then Linda, the oldest girl, the one who had been on the table being violated as Kyle, Tyler, and Jacky had walked in, stood up. Philip quickly looked away, since she was naked, but his gaze kept turning back. She smiled. "It's okay to look," she said shyly. Philip turned, blushing, and she motioned him to walk with her down the beach.
"I didn't see that coming," George said.
"That's because you're being an ostrich," Jonas said with a smile that kept the comment from being insulting.
Randy looked up from what he was doing. "Dad," he said, catching George's attention from the young couple. "Dad, you're going to have to talk with Philip."
"I know," George said. "He's too young to...."
"That's not it, Dad," Randy said with just a hint of asperity. "Philip's terrified of feeling attracted to her, because Ma and Pa Eccles drilled it into him that it was sinful."
"Oh," George said.
"That's going to be interesting," Harry said analytically. "A girl who thinks it's her job to be ready whenever a man wants sex, and a boy who thinks he's being evil for having sex feelings. Good luck sorting that one out!" Randy and Drew giggled; looking up at them, so did Jacky. Maureen smiled, feeling a sense of relief that one of the kids was beginning to come back around to normal kid responses.
After a few more minutes, the fourteen kids were processed as far as initial therapy could go. Kyle looked at Maureen. "I think they're going to need time with my Dad as well as what you'll be giving them. We'll set that up before they reappear." He focused for a second, went cloudy, and then came back into clear view. The fourteen kids were gone. "Wow, I like your new place; wait until you see it!" he said cheerily. And everyone burst into laughter at that comment.
Pen looked with shock at Skipper. "I thought you said you weren't going to put me down about that, back in the emergency van. I'm sorry; I'll go now. You don't want a queer here, I realize that. Thanks for the medical help, though."
"That is not what the #$@@#@ I'm saying," Skipper said. He caught Bobby's eye and silently asked a question with his own. Bobby glanced meaningfully at Doug. "I'm going to talk about that, too, Bobby," he continued, answering the silent challenge. "But for now, I've seen enough. Sometimes you've just got to do the right thing and trust someone." Bobby's eyes flashed and his jaw set, then he drew a breath and nodded acquiescence.
"Pen," Bobby started, "Nobody here is down on you for being gay. We don't practice self-hatred, and I'd recommend you give it up, too." Two jaws dropped. "Let me tell you my story," he continued.
"When I was a kid, there was this big kid next door that was just nuts about the Navy. And I idolized him -- he was what I wanted to be when I grew up. And he was always patient of me as the tagalong little kid that always wants to do everything with him."
"When I got older, I got picked on by bullies, and he was there. And when I turned eleven, it wasn't just hero worship any more. I had a huge crush on him, like kids will do. Mom used to kid me about that."
"And then I hit puberty. And I realized that I liked guys. Well, not exactly that -- seeing hot guys turned me on, all right, but what I wanted was an impossible dream. I wanted to be in love with my childhood hero, my crush, my big brother -- Skipper."
"I kept all that inside myself, but I ended up not hiding things enough, looking too long, popping boners at the wrong times, and I got outed. I ended up in a fight, and came home with a black eye. Skipper was back from the Navy by then, and with his parents having gotten killed in that accident, Mama told him to stay with us. Well, he took me to school the next day, and the guys who'd bullied me the day before were there when I walked onto the school grounds. They started in again."
"Next thing I knew, Skipper was there next to me -- it was like he'd teleported into the middle of the fight, he moved so fast. And he bounced those kids off the school fence, and held one of them up by his jacket collar...."
"That sounds familiar," Doug said with a sheepish half-smile. Skipper smirked at him.
"Anyway, he let them know that they could expect to get whatever they did to me back nine times over. But in the course of all that, they outed me to him. He left to go deal with his EMT thing -- he'd just gotten the job".
"I was terrified to go home that night -- afraid of what he'd have to say. Well, I found the guts somewhere to own up to what they'd said, to let him know I was in fact gay. And he reached out for me, and I cowered, and he got this hurt expression, and pulled me to him and hugged him. Then he asked me if there was any kid I especially liked, one I'd fallen for.
"Ever have your world turn completely upside down? When I told him I was gay, and he hugged me, I was shocked -- that wasn't what I expected him to react like. Then his next question... well, I knew I had to tell him the truth, and I was terrified."
"What he didn't know," Skipper picked up the story, "was that I was berating myself for being a pedophile, or the next thing to it. I knew I was gay; I'd come out in the Navy -- well, not officially, but I had a bit of experience, and being a Corpsman, you learn a lot more about what doesn't get mentioned publicly. But the person I really loved, the one I fell for, was a thirteen-year-old boy, and I was not going to ever let on to him how I felt, because it would be like child molesting.
"Then he told me he loved me -- and loved me that way. And I had to tell him about my guilt trip. And I was apologizing all over myself for it, and the little fart leaned over and kissed me!"
"We've been together ever since, doing everything we can together," Bobby added.
"We told Grace -- she took it well -- and she and I sat down and decided on the rules. Basically we were going to wait until Bobby was legal before we did anything but jerk off in the same room looking at each other." Skipper blushed. "Bobby was bugging me to cheat and have sex with him, but I kept my promise."
"Then last Sunday Jonas's mother called us to help them rescue Mickey and his brothers, and this blond telepath kid read my mind," Bobby filled in. "Next day Jonas somehow got recognized as a judge...."
"At fifteen?" Pen asked.
"Yeah, at fifteen. Old Judge Brewster had him put on a robe and sit at his judge's desk in court and everything. And he did a decree with some fancy wording that allowed me to get my EMT license and drive the EMT truck, and he slipped it in there in disguised language that anything Skipper and I do with each other's bodies is legal too, even if I'm underage by state law. We've done everything -- well, except one thing -- this past week." Bobby's cheeky grin was infectious; he looked at Skipper possessively.
"What's the one thing?" Doug asked.
Bobby turned bright red. "We're stretching me, a little at a time," he said. "It's almost ready to fit him in, and I can't wait!" Pen and Doug looked nonplussed, and then suddenly got the 'light bulb over head' expression.
"So how's that differ from what I was doing?" Pen asked. "You didn't tell me all about your personal lives without a reason, but I'm missing the point somehow."
"The point," Skipper said, "is that Bobby and I are in love, committed to each other. If I have to wait ten years, I'll never do anything that could hurt him -- physically or emotionally. And allowing for the fact that he's got a little growing up to do yet, he feels just the same way. We've talked about that a lot -- especially since Grace and I can both remember how much our feelings changed between when we were fourteen and when we became grownups.
"I don't care that you wanted Tony to do you in the butt, Pen," Skipper continued. "I had some good sex in the Navy that didn't differ a whole lot from that. The point is that he was simply using you -- and you were using him."
Three sets of shocked, startled eyes snapped to Skipper's serious mien. Pen dipped his head in guilt.
"There is nothing wrong," Skipper said with compassion, "in feeling the desire you did. I love Bobby; he loves me. And most of the world would think I'm molesting a child by loving him as I do. But they don't understand. I promised Grace -- I promised myself I'd never touch him until we could do it legally. I did that because I love him, and wanted never to do something to hurt him."
"Sebastian saw through that, and saw the love I felt, the desire I felt, and the love and desire that Bobby felt. And he showed Jonas how to make that possible, how to work past the laws and enable us to be a couple, physically as well as emotionally."
"I had sex with other guys before. If you want a lecture on what's wrong with casual sex, any minister will be glad to give you one. I won't. I had sex, and liked it. I got release for the lust in me. I'll never do it again. But that's not because I think it's evil. It's because I have everything I need right here." He reached out with one arm and pulled Bobby to his side.
"People are always comparing sex to food, two different appetites that work something alike. So let me say it this way: casual sex took care of my appetite, the way a greasy hamburger and fries in a greasy-spoon roadside diner will take care of your hunger when you're on the road and just need a meal." Pen grimaced, remembering the snack bar at the bowling alley a few hours ago. "But Bobby's like a gourmet chef who cares deeply about me. He isn't a master of sexual techniques, but everything he has is given with love and a deep, deep desire to please me. The guys I slept with in the Navy gave me their mouth, their butts, their cocks. Bobby gives me every bit of himself, body and soul. He's young yet, and probably more emotionally fragile than I ought to be messing with. But I take that gift, and give him myself back, body and soul. And I'll never hurt him, and I know he'll never hurt me. That's what love's all about, Pen."
"What you did with Tony, it was a way to get your rocks off for both of you. But it wasn't even casual sex. He used you, when he wanted Lisa; because he could get the sex he wanted from you and not her. He hurt you both, emotionally, even if she doesn't know it yet. He played with your heads. Tonight he showed you how much he cares about you."
"But look at the other side of it too. What's Tony's favorite color? What songs does he like? What books does he read -- if he reads anything? What TV shows does he watch? What goes on in his head while he's getting his rocks off with you? Do you know? Do you care?
"There's not a one of us who doesn't want sex with another guy," Skipper continued. Bobby looked at Doug; Doug looked away. "Stop hating yourself for that, Pen. But take a good look at what your choices have done. Tony's going to end up in jail for rape, and you know how his Pop and Lisa will react to learning that it's a guy he raped." Pen cringed. "You're going to have to deal with the fact you have serious damage to your butt, and somehow without letting on what happened to anybody in the community outside this house. And I'm not sure you can pull that off."
Skipper reached out and turned Pen's face to him. "But there's one bit of hurt we haven't dealt with yet, and you need to take care of that one too. And believe me; I'm not really thrilled about forcing this out of either of you. But I know it's gotta be addressed."
He looked over at Doug. "Tell me," he said to him, "once more exactly what happened tonight from your perspective."
Doug drew his breath. "When I walked into the bowling alley, Pen was sitting there at the snack bar. After I took a leak, he called me over to sit with him. And he thanked me for sticking up for him yesterday, and insisted on treating me. I told him I didn't want his charity, but he pushed the issue. Then Tony came in and asked him for a ride, and I waited there until he came back. He looked like he was hurt bad, and he insisted he didn't want to go to the E.R., so I called Bobby. The rest, you know."
Skipper had a warm, compassionate smile on his face, but his eyes bore into Doug. "Why'd you wait, Doug?" Doug caught his breath, glancing towards the door. "Why'd you insist on calling for help?" Skipper pushed on.
Doug started to stand up, with a panicked expression on his face. "Sit down!" Skipper ordered, with a snap of command in his voice. Doug wilted into himself, and sat. Pen and Bobby looked on, with expressions that said, "I don't get this" all over their faces.
"You had a reputation as a big, bad punk that hates fags," Skipper continued relentlessly. "Bobby thought at first you were the one who hurt Pen." Pen started to interrupt; Skipper shushed him. Doug looked panicked.
"I didn't want to see him hurt," Doug offered, his eyes firmly fixed on the fascinating pattern of the tabletop. "He's little, he's easy to hurt. I needed to protect him. And I failed at it -- he got raped. And I want to kill that S.O.B. Tony!"
"Why, Doug?" Skipper asked softly. Not a sound disturbed the silence in the kitchen.
"Jonas and you told me to?" Doug offered, with a quick glance at Skipper and a upward lilt to the end of his short sentence that said, "Please buy this and don't push."
Suddenly the pieces fell in place for Bobby, and he looked over with a figurative light bulb over his head, and a warm smile. "Bullshit," he said kindly. "You need to tell the truth, Dougie, and I'm sorry I've been so bitchy at you."
Wet eyes looked up at Bobby. Doug took a deep breath. "Because I love him," he said softly into the silence.
Maureen and Josiah walked happily into the beautifully decorated lounge, then looked, shocked, at the four gloomy faces that faced them there. Jonas and Harry were sitting on one couch, clinging to each other and looking depressed; across from them, in an overstuffed chair, sat Kyle and Tyler, bodies touching lightly and with equally depressed expressions.
"My God, what's the matter?" Maureen asked, crossing quickly to her son. Josiah pulled a straight chair up near them and sat on it, looking concerned.
"It's stupid," Harry said morosely.
"Nothing that hurts my boys is stupid," Maureen said firmly and warmly.
"Well..." Jonas began. "This has been like a honeymoon -- for you two and for us too. A week on a Florida beach together, swimming, talking..." he paused. "Sleeping together." Another pause. "Never needing to be apart."
"We're going home in a day or two," Harry said. "Back to the same old thing. Alone in my room at night. We can't be seen together at school -- well, no more than as friends."
"The only thing that would stop me from coming out at school," Jonas said vehemently, "is worry about how it'll affect you, that you won't get harassed. I can handle it. But I don't think you can."
"If I've got you," Harry said, "I can deal with it. But Mother will never understand what has happened between us this week. And I'm 15; she'll expect me to live at home with her."
"Then we'll just have to help her understand," said Josiah firmly. "And as far as living arrangements go, I may have a surprise or two in store for you. We'll talk about that later -- with Abbie. But I guarantee, you two won't have to go through three years of 'pretend we're just friends' -- I've learned how much you're committed to each other, and I'd no more force you to be separated than I'd allow anyone to separate me and Maureen, now."
Jonas looked up with home. "Thanks -- Dad," he said simply. "I have no idea how I can ever repay you."
Josiah's eyes were wet with tears, though he was smiling. "You just did -- son." He bent over and kissed him gently on the cheek.
Josiah drew a deep breath, and wiped his eyes. "Now," he said, turning to Kyle and Tyler, "what about you two?"
"You've freed America again, with help from the Lafayette and the caretaker states' Army and Navy -- but it was all your doing that it happened. Captain Shatner is training a crew for the Lafayette right now, using the material Roger Simmons left him. They're ready to go discover Vulcan." He grinned. "They're putting the country back together, and from what I hear, there's going to be a statue of you two on the Mall in Washington. You saved Philip from certain death. So, what's got you down in the dumps?"
"Needless killing," Kyle said, his eyes full of despair. "Look at all the people who died here. All the kids who were killed on Saturday back home. We tortured a man. We forced him to feel all the pain he'd caused, and left him to suffer. Heck, I even killed my own father."
Josiah, Maureen, Harry, and Jonas drew an involuntary breath at this admission. Tyler turned to Kyle with a stern but compassionate gaze. "You executed your stepfather," he said. "He was tried and convicted, and you put him out of his misery when Brant couldn't follow through on the death sentence." He looked up at the others. "Kyle's stepfather was a monster. Danny, you know, the android, had him searched out and located, and he was sentenced to death for his crimes. Kyle killed him with a Phasenmorph blast, when he was in agony after Brant couldn't finish killing him."
"But other than that, yeah, we're guilty of a lot of deaths. And although Arlo was part of the FCC leadership that was responsible for the attacks, yeah, we did leave him in torture. We're eight years old. And we've brought about more deaths than most of the great villains of history already."
Josiah looked at Tyler steadily. "I'm a judge," he said. "Usually I preside in Family Court. And I agonize over every decision. Am I sending a child back to an abusive situation? Am I breaking up a family needlessly? And when the County or Superior Court judge is unavailable, I have to sit in his place. I've sent men to prison. Once I had to finish up a capital trial, when Judge Henderson had his heart attack, remember, Maureen? They were halfway through a murder trial, and the judge was in coronary care. So I finished the trial. I could have pronounced the death sentence on him."
"You're a Mikyvis, Tyler," he continued. "I'm not totally clear on all that, that means, but I know that part of it is that you can read futures, make judgments based on them. I envy you; I have to do it blind."
"So use that talent. Look at what you've done, what could have happened and what did happen thanks to your intervention. Look at every life that you've affected. Then tell me if you've done right. Sometimes there aren't painless choices, only picking the right decision from a group of possible answers where all of them cause someone hurt. Look inside yourself, and tell me -- no, tell Kyle -- whether you did the right thing."
"How can I know what's the right thing?" Tyler asked in tears.
"Look in your heart," Harry said. "Look in your heart, and you'll know."
Tyler closed his eyes. Maureen closed hers too, and bowed her head, asking for solace for the hurting boys. There was a long pause.
Tyler opened his eyes again, blinked away the tears, and looked up. "It's not done yet," he said. "When we go back, we have to do something else. Something more radical than anything we've done here... but it's necessary. It's the only thing that will prevent the destruction of everything and everyone... by Axon! And I was given something while I was doing that. No, don't," he said quickly to Kyle as he attempted to read him. "You have a decision to make before you can see this, and it has to be your free decision. Mine was made already; I said I'd stand by you, come whatever. That's why I could see it. There's big changes coming, honeybear -- and we're in the middle of them. Some others are being made by a couple of other Mikyvis, and I couldn't see who and what they did, I was forbidden to look at it."
"But we're the only two Mikyvis," Kyle said.
"Now we are," Tyler said. "But remember that we can go anywhere in space or time, any universe. And, apparently, so can they -- unless we stop them."
"Anyway," he continued, "it all works out right in the end. We're the only two right now, but we won't be alone for long. There's more coming, and others; a Someone who Guards and a few who are... old. Very old... ancient Lords..."
Tyler pulled Kyle close as he shook his head slightly. "Um, back on topic: Axon no longer has a sense of right or wrong. We were conscience-stricken by what we did, because we still do. Remember that, when the time comes." He closed his eyes. "I'm supposed to let a lot of this knowledge get wiped for now; Mikey gave it to me just to help you, but I have to choose to accept the wipe. And yeah, I do choose it."
He glowed briefly, then opened his eyes. "Are you OK, Kylebear? Did I get the answers that helped?"
"I think so, cuddlebunny. I'm still carrying a lot of guilt, but you told me we'd find out it was the right thing in the end."
Jonas reached out and drew the two young Mikyvis to him, giving them both a big hug. "I think you two need to let go of your worries, and have a good swim. We'll play this out as the time comes, all of us. Race you to the water!"
Suddenly Kyle and Tyler vanished, leaving only a pile of clothing behind. "They cheated!" Harry said with a grin. "C'mon, bro, race you to the water!"
Josiah grinned at Maureen, who grabbed his hand and drew him down onto the couch the boys had vacated
Outside the old Naval Hospital, the sun was dipping towards the horizon. Jed finished off a stilted conversation with a boy from the Unit, one where he hadn't understood half the combat terms the boy had used and wasn't quite sure what to say to someone who had just seen good friends killed. He reached out a hand and rested it on the boy's forearm, and tried to think of what to say before leaving him.
C.J. was chatting with Lije, who looked a little more chipper than the despair written across his face earlier. There was a little hope there now, after the encounter with Sean and what Jed and C.J. had told them about the Clan earlier. Nate was watching the two of them, his face a mask and his feelings tightly in reserve.
Another, older boy he didn't know, dressed in fatigues, came over and alerted Jed's companion they were getting ready to leave. Jed felt a sense of relief as the boy excused himself and followed after the older boy. He walked over to C.J. and the Lewis boys.
"I suppose we ought to be getting you two home," he said. "They notified your mother about Tom, right?"
"Yeah," said Nate. "She's been at the funeral home, trying to make arrangements. She called me to tell me she was home about 20 minutes ago." He held up a cell phone.
"Well, let's see about getting a ride to your place," Jed replied, with more confidence than he really felt. Seth had told him to play it by ear today, nobody had realized it could be like this, and Cory and Sean would back up whatever he felt he had to do. He spotted one of the Federation Security guys, in full uniform, and walked up to him.
"Those two guys," he said, pointing, "lost their big brother today. They're under Clan protection; we need to get them home. Have you got someone to transport them?"
The Starfleet man pulled out his communicator, and spoke into it, then listened. After a few moments, he looked up. "I've got a Charleston City P.D. black-and-white coming for you. He'll be at the front door in about ten minutes."
"Thanks," Jed said warmly. He walked swiftly back over and told the other three the news. After a couple of wrong turns, they found their way up to the first floor and out the entry. Another Security man was there; he eyed them. "We're not supposed to let you kids go off by yourselves," he said.
"There's a City P.D. Car coming for us; we came up to wait for him," Jed answered. Within a minute, a marked Police Car pulled into the drive and up to the entry.
"Are you for the transport of these kids?" the Starfleet man asked. The cop in the car nodded. The Starfleet man held the rear door for them.
"One of you ought to ride up front, since there's four of you," the city policeman said. "I'll have to get the door for the three who sit in back; it's set for prisoner transport, so it won't open from the inside."
"Thanks," Nate said. "Lije, you wanna ride shotgun?" A big smile from his little brother was answer enough; they piled in, with C.J. in the middle and Lije in the front passenger seat.
"Where's your home?" the policeman asked. Jed kept quiet as Nate gave the address. There was little conversation on the ride to the Lewis home; most of it had already been said in the cafeteria. After about 15 minutes, the officer turned down a quiet side street of older bungalows, mostly kept up but with a few looking deteriorated. He pulled up in front of one that looked in fairly good condition. Lije jumped out, and opened the right rear door as the officer radioed in and then climbed out himself. The three boys from the back seat slid out.
"Mom, we're home!" Nate called out as he walked in, followed by C.J., Lije, and Jed, with the city policeman bringing up the rear. A slightly plump middle-aged woman with tears in her eyes but a welcoming smile on her face gathered the boys with both arms. Even prepared by the conversation earlier, Jed was still taken aback to see that her right arm ended six inches from the elbow in a rounded stump. There was a teary reunion; then Nate introduced Jed and C.J. and the officer, whose name turned out to be O'Reilly. Mrs. Lewis offered him coffee, and he accepted with a smile.
A few minutes later, a car door slammed outside, and determined footsteps on the front porch gave way to pounding on the door. Lije looked up. "It's Miss Nadine," he said fearfully.
"Don't worry," Jed said. Lije let her in.
"Miz Lewis," Nadine said abruptly, "please accept the department's condolences on the death of your son Thomas. Unfortunately, his death violates the terms of the judge's order number 2004-L-23J. I'm here to take the boys to their new home."
"May I see that court order?" Officer O'Reilly asked her. She handed it over. He glanced through it, looking carefully at the last sheet, marked 'Custody Transfer Form 33B' at the top.
"Mrs. Lewis, I'm sorry, but it appears these papers are in order," he said. "I'm going to have to assist this lady in transferring the boys to their new home."
"They're a good Christian family, strong on discipline and Biblical principles," Nadine volunteered. "I picked the best for Nathan and Elijah; they go to the same church as I do."
"And what church is that?" Jed asked, with a sinking feeling.
"The First Fundamentalist Church of Christ of Charleston, son," she answered. "Would you like to come to Sunday School? I can arrange to have you picked up." Her smile was devoid of warmth.
Jed drew a deep breath. "Officer O'Reilly," he said, "These two boys and their mother have been placed under the protection of Clan Short of Vulcan, by the Clan's Acting Patriarch. I must ask your assistance in enforcing that order -- and it supersedes Miss Nadine's paperwork."
"How would you know that?" O'Reilly asked. "You're only what, twelve?"
"Ark, I need help here, and fast," Jed said under his breath. "Almost thirteen, sir," he said aloud.
A few seconds later, Travis and Fred White, both in full Starfleet Security uniform, popped into existence just behind Nadine. Travis was carrying a sheaf of paperwork. Nate and Lije gaped openmouthed at the sight. "What are you two gawking at?" she asked irritably. "You should be going to your rooms and packing."
"Just wait there," Travis countermanded her order. "Jed, fill us in."
"Sean put Nate and Lije here, and their mother, under Clan protection this afternoon, and assigned temporary custody to her until we get time to find out what help she's going to need. Their big brother was one of the Cadets killed today."
"Guys, I'm sorry," Travis said with sincere compassion. "You can take heart that he gave his life to protect some other kids from religious terrorists."
"There's more," said Jed. "The lady standing in front of you showed up with paperwork to take them away from their mother, very conveniently in view of the fact that their custody was in her because Tom, the big brother, could help her care for them, and he's been dead less than twelve hours. She admitted to everyone present here but you and Fred that both she and the couple she wants to place them with are FCC members. Officer O'Reilly here believed himself forced by the court order to comply with what she wanted to do."
"Check these out," said Travis, handing O'Reilly the paperwork he was carrying.
"What's it with kids thinking they're in charge these days?" O'Reilly said rhetorically to Fred.
"I wouldn't know," Fred answered. "Travis here was the one trained guy we had on hand; my two bosses were both busy, or they'd have come instead."
"How's Adam?" Jed asked.
"He's in the Med Bay at the Ark," Fred answered. "J.J.'s there with him now, and I think he's going to be O.K/, aside from a tendency to turn silvery from what I heard. Gabe's trying to coordinate Security at C.I.C."
"They had to turn Adam Vifer?" C.J. asked. Travis nodded.
"So your only help was a kid?" O'Reilly asked Fred.
"Well, yeah," Fred answered. "But Travis is one of the best trained we've got; his boyfriend saw to that."
"Boyfriend?" Nate asked.
"Right," Fred said. "Gabe's second in command of security, and he is in charge right now."
"And he has a twelve-year-old boyfriend?" O'Reilly asked.
"Well, yeah," Travis answered. "He is, after all, only a day older than me."
"I trust that paperwork is in order?" Fred said to O'Reilly.
"I don't like the looks or sound of this at all," O'Reilly answered.
"Perhaps you should radio in," Fred suggested. He pulled out his own communicator.
"Terra Main Security," came a tinny voice. "We are under Red Alert, priority messages only."
"Fred White, Clan Short Security," he answered. "Priority CS-Vulcan-3."
"Priority acknowledged. Go ahead," came the voice.
"Please have the South Carolina Governor's Office officially notify Charleston P.D. Dispatch that the state is under Martial Law and therefore subject to Vulcan Law, and that their officers, specifically an Officer O'Reilly, badge number 743, is to render all assistance requested by members of Clan Short."
"Request acknowledged," came the voice. "Message is going out now. Do you require on-site assistance?"
Fred looked a question at O'Reilly, who nodded no. "I don't believe so. Oh, we'll need a warrant to detain one Nadine..." he glanced at the paperwork O'Reilly had set down "...Nadine Brockmire as an FCC agent caught in the act of using local CPS bureaucracy to abscond with two boys, who are now under Clan protection."
O'Reilly radioed in. "What in the name of Bloody Jesus are you doing out there, O'Reilly?" came an angry voice. "We just got a call direct from the Governor's Office to make sure you're not interfering with Clan Short of Vulcan operations. Wait a minute.... Something just got faxed in. Do you have a Nadine Brockmire in custody?"
"I will in a moment," O'Reilly said.
"I want a full report when you get in here -- with your prisoner. I don't like the department looking like it has egg on its face."
An ashen-faced O'Reilly signed off a moment later. Fred spoke up. "I'll make sure to send something up that acknowledges you were just trying to do your job, keep the flak from getting too thick. I know what it's like in uniform when you're dealing with dueling bureaucracies. Tell Corporal Jackson what happened; he knows what strings to pull to keep this from messing up your record."
"Lady, you're under arrest," O'Reilly said to Nadine, reciting off to her, her Miranda rights. Handcuffing her, he marched her out the door.
"We'll talk to you guys tomorrow," Jed said to Lije and Nate. "Find out what help you and your mom are going to need, and arrange to get it for you. For one thing, that hospital we were at can probably build her a new hand."
"I can't work a prosthetic," Mrs. Lewis said.
"This won't be a prosthetic," Travis said. "It'll be a body-powered android limb, tied into your nervous system, and look and feel just like the hand you were born with, to you as well as everyone else. That may take a week or two, though, with everything that happened today."
"Are you two ready to go home?" Fred asked Jed and C.J. Wearily, they nodded yes. "Ark, you ready to transport four to C.I.C.?"
< Always, > came over the subvocal.
"Engage, or whatever," Jed said, grinning.
Wearing the bath kilt Bobby had found for him, Pen walked gingerly into the guest room that Jondo the mystery boy had vacated for the night. Doug was right behind him, carrying his clothes. "I'll just set these over here on this chest for you," he said. "Those pants will probably need to be replaced, but Grace got the worst of the blood stain out."
"Thanks, Doug," Pen said warmly, unwrapped the kilt, and slipped into the left side of the double bed.
Doug walked over, lifted some boxes out of an old padded wicker chair, loosened his belt, and curled up in the chair.
"Hey, man, there's plenty of room in here," Pen said.
"I can't sleep with you!" Doug said, his face a mask.
Pen's expression crumpled. "Damn, I should have known," he said to himself in a quiet, dejected voice. "No matter what they had to say downstairs, I'm just the faggot that nobody wants to be around." Willing himself not to cry until he was out of there, he got up and walked over to the chest where his clothes were piled.
"Hey, where are you going?" Doug said, looking up.
"Why should you care?" Pen asked. "You can have the bed. Thank you for helping me earlier; I do wish you the best." After the first outburst, his 'proper' urbane manner that he'd been taught to use in social situations was firmly in place.
"What?" Doug was mystified. After the secret-exposing conversation downstairs, why Pen was reacting like this was a total mystery. "Where are you going? You're supposed to be staying here recuperating, and I'm supposed to be watching you."
"Well, I can understand why you don't want to sleep in the same bed as someone like me," Pen said. "I am grateful for all you've done, and I really think I should not inconvenience you further." He squeezed his upper cheek muscles together in an effort to keep back the tears.
"Inconvenience me?" Doug said. "I just want to take care of you. And Pen, I've got a lot of will power, but if I undressed and got in that bed with you, I can't keep from reacting to you. So, I took the chair, where I'd be there if you started hurting, but not tempted to start something that would only end up hurting us both."
"Huh?" It was Pen's turn to be mystified.
"Look, man. For the first fucking time in my life, I'm finally admitting to someone else that I'm attracted to them, and I don't want to be anything like Tony, just using you. I don't know what the fuck you're thinking, but the only where I want to be tonight is here with you, making sure you're OK. If you feel like you need to leave for some reason, I'm coming along. But it would be an insult to Skipper and Grace and Bobby if you did. They really went out of their way for you, you know."
"You weren't turning away from me because I like dick?" Pen asked.
"You weren't listening, Penfield," Doug answered. "I care very much about you, and I don't ever want to treat you like Tony did. So the only thing I can do is to try to take care of you. Let me at least give you that."
"But... I don't get it," Pen said. "You have to know, with what all I let out downstairs, that your getting turned on is the last thing that would upset me. I won't be able to make love, you know, buttsex, for a while. But I can handle almost anything else. So what's with the 'I can't share your bed' bit?"
Doug began to tear up, and his face tensed. "Pen," he said, "I live in the crappiest house in Arkham. My mother's home, drinking up her welfare check, right now. We don't have much of anything. But the one thing I do have is my pride. If I fall in love with someone, I want to stand up proudly next to them, commit to them, and share our lives. And that's why I'm trying to keep myself from falling for you. I love you, Pen, and it'd never work -- and I won't be the guy who runs around hiding things and using you like Tony did. And there is no way that Penfield Throxton IV of the Arkham Throxtons is going to be allowed to date Doug Murdock of the Wrong-Side-of-the-Tracks Murdocks -- much less anything more permanent."
Pen stared wide-eyed at him. "Doug, I'm so sorry. I thought you were turning away because I'm a faggot."
"That was before," Doug said. "I got a reputation as a gay-basher because I had to cover up what I was feeling. God, I'm so ashamed of that. But no, the reason I'm turning away is that I won't put you through having to choose. I don't have much, but dammit, I won't hide! I've done too much of that already."
"You want... to be with me... publicly?" Pen said hesitantly. "You're not ashamed to be, you know, with somebody gay?"
"That's the long and short of it," Doug said. "If I allowed myself to fall for you, I'd want it to be out there, in front of God and everybody. And your father would never stand for it. If I could support you, take care of you.... But I won't put you in that bind."
"Really?" Pen was floored. He drew a deep breath, walked over, and kissed Doug.
"Don't get me going, man," Doug said. "You being naked and kissing me is such a temptation -- and I really don't want to go through the hurt of losing you, when your father starts putting the pressure on you."
Pen closed his eyes and prayed, and felt a wash of strength and confidence. "Doug, are you serious about wanting to be with me long term?" he asked. "This is going to sound insulting, but it's a question that needs to be asked here: me, not my money?"
Doug stood stock still. "You. Always. I don't care if Bill Gates croaked and left you his entire fortune, or if you suddenly started picking up cans on the street to make spare change to eat."
Pen leaned in for a quick kiss, then turned back to the chest. "Give me a hand with these, then."
"Where are you going now?" Doug asked. "I thought we got over that."
"Well," he replied. "That depends. If you are coming along, or promise to wait here for me and be with me from now on, then I'm going up to the mansion, collect my stuff, tell my father I'm gay and I'm leaving, and come back to you. The trust fund my grandmother left will support us until we finish high school if we're careful, and my father doesn't control that. If you're not, I'm going to go up to Carrabassett."
"What's up there?"
"Cold swift mountain streams at the bottom of rocky ravines."
"Don't even think like that!" Doug was emphatic. "But you'd really give up everything, for me?"
"Nobody has ever loved me before," Pen said quietly.
Doug was quiet, thinking, for several seconds. Then he drew Pen to him and kissed him firmly and passionately. "You're not going anywhere," he said, "but back to bed. With me."
Pen allowed himself a hopeful smile. "What about my stuff?"
"We'll talk, tomorrow. It'll still be there tomorrow, and maybe we'll come up with a better idea than what you said. Worse come to worst, I'll drop out and go to work to put you through school and college, so we can have a decent income afterwards. You're the bright scholarly type; you can make more money that way."
"We won't need to do that," Pen said with a happy expression. "But you know what the best part of this is?"
"What?"
"Last ten minutes we've been talking, we've been discussing what WE'RE going to do!" He grinned, and leaned in for another kiss. Then he started to unbutton Doug's shirt.
"Hey!" Doug said.
Pen smirked. "Don't tell me you forgot even what you learned in kindergarten?"
"Huh?"
"I'm already naked. You gotta play show and tell too!" Pen's expression was mischievous. He reached for the fly of Doug's pants.
The eight travelers appeared in Maureen's living room just as the town policeman, Skipper, and Bobby came onto the porch, moments after the Phaser duel with Pastor Friendly and his five parishioners as far as normal time was concerned. That they'd been gone a week by their own internal clocks was irrelevant.
Tyler and Kyle had transported them, but said they wouldn't travel with them, since they were both in Charleston at the exact same time though a week earlier on their own personal experience time and they wanted to avoid any chance of creating a paradox. They promised to meet up later, though, when there were no time loops involved.
"Are you all right?" Skipper said as he cleared the door.
"Just fine, now," Harry said warmly. "Most of us got stunned by Phaser blasts, but that's completely worn off now. Have we got a story to tell you!"
Josiah motioned George and the Town policeman into the dining room, and they proceeded to give him the details of what had happened for his police report. After a few moments, Jonas stepped in next to them. "I think we'd better go out and confiscate those Phasers -- they're restricted Starfleet property. And four of those men were probably only stunned, since they got shot through the windows. They'll need to be detained and probably restrained, preferably before they come to."
"You should let the professionals handle this, son," the policeman said kindly.
"He is a professional, at least as far as Starfleet security goes," George said. "He and Harry are licensed to carry those things; none of us are, including you I think. Good idea, Jonas. I'll have to bring in an outside prosecutor, since my boys and I were among those they were shooting at, so it would be conflict of interest for me to prosecute them. But I want to make sure he has an ironclad case. Get some photos, and preserve as much evidence as you can, please." Jonas nodded agreement and headed for the door, motioning Harry to join him.
They shot digital photos of the scene from several angles and close-ups of the six dead or unconscious FCC members. Then Jonas had Harry hold a grocery bag to the ground next to Pastor Friendly's body while he kicked a Phaser into it. They repeated the process by Ralph Wheeler, then by Ben Powell, and finally next to each of the three other men.
As they finished this, two Sheriff's Patrol cars pulled up, and Sheriff Roscoe Burton and a deputy nimbly executed them. "Freeze!" the sheriff called out as the deputy walked up, grabbed Jonas's wrists and twisted them behind him, slapping handcuffs on him.
"Wait a minute!" Harry said. The deputy yanked him to his feet and repeated the process, then frog marched both to the waiting patrol cars.
Clan Short Archivist's Review Notes:
First than you D&B for continuing this wonderful story, your words and characters would have been sorely missed. I for one am very glad to see more words from you.
This story again shows the depth of human depravity and how some people will use religion fraudulently for their own gains and purposes. However, this chapter also shows the resiliency of the human spirit and the fact that there is still a lot of love left in the world.
Obviously though D&B don't have a lot of love for us as they left us with a very nasty CLIFFHANGER!!!
BTW – Great job on the Cliffie.
The Story Lover