Date: Wed, 30 Nov 2005 07:08:19 -0500 (EST)
From: John Ellison <paradegi@rogers.com>
Subject: The Knights of Aurora - Chapter 12

The cars had been ordered for 1930. The Major, who was in charge of the
transportation arrangements, had been very firm. The young gentlemen were
to be on time. They would meet the Cousins in the drawing room and then
proceed in what amounted to a well-guarded convoy down through West
Vancouver, across the Lion's Gate Bridge, through the leafy wonder that was
Stanley Park, directly to the restaurant. Extra cars had been laid on -
three borrowed from an undertaker, two the most presentable of the clunkers
that the members of the Security Force drove.

	Blake Putnam Randolph had driven Mrs. Arundel, Mrs. Randolph, and
Mrs. Airlie to Clarence House, the white-stuccoed Georgian classic that was
the Arundels' home, where the ladies would bathe, and change into something
decent. Blake was told to go home, put on some underwear, and return
properly dressed.

	The cadets were ready on time and gathered, as directed, in the
drawing room, where the footmen passed soft drinks. Michael joined them,
smiling, greeting each young man and, as Nate Schoenmann put it,
schmoozing. The Major, severe in a fresh dark suit, unbent a little, and
chatted amiably with Colin. Chef, as rumpled as always, scorned the soft
drinks and asked for decent drink. Ray raised an eyebrow, but said
nothing. Chef wanted some "medicine" and that was that.

	As it was to be a relaxed evening, the cadets had dressed in shorts
and jeans, khaki trousers predominating, short-sleeved shirts -
unfortunately garish Hawaiian shirts - and sneakers or boat shoes, worn
without socks.

	Shortly before 1915 the Cousins arrived. In a group, the cadets
turned to greet the Chinese boys. In group they gasped and Chef, his belly
rumbling with repressed laughter, raised his eyes to heaven. Cory and Nate,
when they had recovered, both muttered, "Oy Vey!"

	Standing in a group, the Cousins were a sight. Amah, omniscient,
all-powerful Amah, had decreed that the boys would dress properly in the
presence of the Serenity. The Amahs had not quite got over their shock at
seeing their young charges in their revealing Speedos. Their "boys" would
dress properly! There would be no exception and no argument.

	The Cousins had been showered, bathed, powdered and buffed to
within an inch of their lives. They were dressed for a proper dinner with
the Serenity. Unfortunately, they made the young gentlemen of Aurora look
like a bunch of refugees found stowed away in the lowest hold of the most
disreputable freighter ever to sail to Seven Seas!

	The older Cousins, Alistair, Cornelius, Michael, John and Matthew
wore well-cut black silk suits, stiffly starched white shirts, school ties
and highly polished black oxfords. The younger Cousins, Arden, Max, Teddy,
Joey, Harry and Will, were dressed as befitted their amah's idea of what
constituted proper apparel for young boys when dining with the
Emperor. Each boy had been threatened into a black jacket, matching short
black trousers, starched shirt, a tie, white ankle socks and polished
shoes.

	For a moment a stunned silence filled the drawing room. Then the
Twins, self-appointed "arbiters elegantaria", and acknowledged leaders of
what was proper for young gentlemen of breeding and culture to wear
(although they sometimes despaired of Harry), took charge. The drawing room
emptied rapidly as the Cousins were snatched away upstairs. The younger
Cousins went up with Randy and Joey, Calvin and Simon. Alistair was given
into the care of the Twins. The Phantom, with Colin, took charge of
Cornelius while Tyler and Val, together with Mark and Tony, escorted the
other older Cousins.

	The bedroom floors were a maelstrom of sound and colour as the
cadets ransacked their wardrobes for something the Cousins could wear. The
cadets were determined that the Cousins would look more like they were
going out for dinner, and not to attend a funeral.

	Ties were loosened, jackets removed, white shirts tossed into a
corner, all complaints ignored as the Cousins were stripped of their
finery. All complaints that Amah would not understand were roundly
ignored. Almost immediately from several of the open doors that led to the
bedrooms there came a long, cry of "Oh, no!"

It transpired that Amah, firmly, had decreed, as numberless mothers
throughout the Western world decreed every day, that the only proper
undergarments for boys, without exception, were tighty whiteys!

This posed no problem to Two Strokes, who was a briefs man, or to The
Phantom, who was flexible when it came to underpants. It depended on one's
personal taste and on whether one wanted to swing in the wind or enjoy the
imagined safety of white "bulwarks of morality". They had, after all, as
The Phantom was fond of confiding from time to time, saved his upper deck
fittings from the depredations of Amy Jenson. So he had no complaint. Kevin
and Ray preferred boxers, as did Val. Tyler was firmly in the Jockey
corner.

	Alistair, when he was standing in front of the Twins, and wearing
only his tight briefs, wondered what the fuss was about. He had seen two
sets of Twins' eyebrows rise slightly and thought they were expressing
disapproval of the bulge that pooched out the front of his
whiteys. Alistair thought that the Twins were checking him out (they were)
but was too polite to comment. If the two white boys wanted to admire his
appendage, well, that was fine with Alistair.

	"Tacky, Alistair, tacky," declared Cory.

	Scratching his chin, Todd nodded his agreement. "Still, he does
have the body for tighties." He winked and added, "Nice basket, too."

	Alistair, who had never been so openly admired, except by Arden,
who was his brother and didn't count, didn't know whether he should feel
flattered, or angry. So he blushed and stammered, "Am . . . Amah says it is
proper apparel for young gentlemen.

	"Well, I am a proper young gentleman," responded Cory, "and
tighties are alright when one is wearing sports gear, as after all, one
does need the support," he opined. "However . . ." Cory broke off and began
rummaging in one of the drawers of the huge clothes press that stood
against the far wall of the bedroom.

	Todd, who knew that his brother was putting on airs, snickered and
assured Alistair, "Don't worry, you're safe as houses."

	Cory turned and held out a pair of blue, white-striped, very
conservative looking boxer shorts. "Here, you are too old for those
diapers. Put these on while I look for something for you to wear." He saw
Alistair hesitate and added, "We won't look." Then he giggled and asked,
"Is Arden really as big as you are?"

	As with many teenage boys, the size of Alistair's penis was of
paramount importance so far as he was concerned, and it was a sore point
that Arden, that short-arsed, obnoxious little brat, went around bragging
that he was as big as his older brother. Completely out of character,
Alistair pushed his hands into the waistband of his underpants and pushed
them down, exposing what was, in Cory's biased opinion, a very well
proportioned set of upper deck fittings.

	"Can you see this on a little dickhead like Arden?" Alistair asked
with a grin. "Gross!"

	Cory started to laugh and slapped Alistair's shoulder. "Damn,
Alistair, you sure got a set, in more ways than one!"

	Again, Alistair blushed. "Oh, Jeez," he exclaimed as his hands sped
down to cover himself. He ducked his head and said, "I don't usually
. . . I mean I'm not usually so overt, but I do get tired of listening to
Arden brag!"

	Todd, who was laughing as hard as Cory, said, "Well, you have
nothing to be ashamed of!" He regarded Alistair's pink-headed organ. "So,
that's what sealing means!"

	Alistair's eyes widened as he remembered seeing Peter and Jérémie
Cher as they chased each other around the pool. "You are not sealed?" he
asked.

	"Of course we are!" exclaimed Cory. "Just about everybody is. We
just don't make such a big deal about it."

	"It is a very `big deal' in my family," responded Alistair. "We are
sealed to the service of the Serenity, forever, and must do what he asks of
us. It is a very important thing."

	"Well, since we're knights, it's a very big thing in the Order,"
replied Todd. "But it's pretty commonplace. You must have noticed the other
guys, in school, I mean."

	"Yes," said Alistair. "I have noticed." Then he asked, "What is the
Order."

	The Twins exchanged a glance and Cory answered, "It is an order of
Knights. We are knights. Peter, and Jérémie Cher are Companions and will
remain so until they, um, are `sealed'. It's required, you know."

	Alistair did not know. "Please, may I know about the Order?"

	"Let's first find something for you to wear," interjected Todd. He
was not averse to explaining the Order to Alistair, but he did feel that
such an explanation should be careful, and slow. "Cory, we need a shirt,
and . . . shorts?"

	"Yeah, he's got a nice butt on him and his legs are really neat,"
enthused Cory. "If you got it, you flaunt it, Alistair." He began to push
aside the clothing hanging in the press, looking for a shirt. "I have some
walking shorts in my dresser, I think," Cory said. "I have no idea where
the footman put them."

	"Alistair's waist is thicker than yours," Todd pointed out. "The
boxers are okay, but we might have to find something else for him."

	"Phantom," returned Cory. "He's got tons. Go and ask him for
something," instructed Cory. He found a particularly hideous short-sleeved
summer shirt. "It's grim, but it will do," he said as he handed the shirt
to Alistair.

	Todd left the room and walked down the corridor. One of the Cousins
- it was Cornelius - appeared, dressed in a striped, collarless shirt (the
Major had been appealed to and donated six shirts, somewhat reluctantly for
they were from Turnbull & Asser, and hideously expensive), over a pair of
black walking shorts (donated by Colin). He was wearing a pair of The
Phantom's extra sneakers, and red and blue striped sports socks. The change
in him was evident as he sauntered confidently down the corridor toward the
stairs.

	The door to The Phantom's rooms was open. Todd could see his
friend, Colin, and Peter Race, standing near the high windows, talking
about something. Todd rapped on the doorframe. "Hey guys, I need some
pants," he said cheerfully.

	The Phantom turned, his eyes sad. "Ah, Todd. Come in, and shut the
door please." He nodded toward Peter. "I want Todd to hear this."



******



	While they waited for Todd to return, Cory and Alistair sat
chatting. Alistair, at first, had felt a little embarrassed, sitting in
just his underpants, but Cory's easygoing demeanour and humour quickly put
the Chinese youth at ease. Cory did not tell him too much about the Order -
that would no doubt come later, if The Phantom were correct, Alistair would
be Michael Chan's heir would have to be told sooner or later.

	Alistair thought carefully before he asked Cory, "Are you, um, are
you homosexual?"

	Cory did no hesitate in answering. He never lied, never
procrastinated, and never denied who and what he was. "Yes. So is Todd. Is
that a problem for you?"

	Shaking his head, Alistair said, "No." He did not think it
necessary to reveal that he and Arden sometimes "played", or that he and
Cornelius were closer than some might think necessary. "I think Arden might
be," he said quietly.

	Cory cocked his head. "Arden? How would you know? He's much too
young, I think." Which was strange for Cory to say, seeing as he and Todd
had been sleeping together since they were seven years old.

"Well, he does enjoy the bath ritual," offered Alistair. He saw the
questioning look on Cory's face and explained. "When Amah bathes the
younger boys, she plays with him, rubbing his winky - sorry, his penis -
until he orgasms. It is very relaxing, and supposedly guarantees a quiet
night for all concerned."

	"You sound as if you're speaking from experience," offered Cory
dryly.

	Alistair nodded self-consciously. "Well, yes, it happened to me."
Realizing what he had just confessed, Alistair slapped his hands across his
mouth, his eyes wide.

	Laughing, Cory shook his head. "It's all right." Then he asked, "Do
you, um, does she, still . . ." He jerked his hand slowly up and down.

	"Oh, no!" exclaimed Alistair. "Once the boy starts to grow hairs on
his . . ." he paused, very embarrassed, " . . . or squirts at her, Amah
stops supervising our baths."

	Still laughing, Cory raised his eyes. Then he looked directly at
Alistair. "On the one hand, I know at least a dozen guys who would give
their eye teeth for a hand job every night before bedtime. On the other, if
Arden enjoys it so much, why did he complain to Michael?"

	Alistair had a ready answer. "Would you like an old woman playing
with your dick?" he asked frankly.

	"Um, well, no," replied Cory with a shudder.

	"Well, neither does Arden, nor do any of the others. It is one
thing to have your dick played with by someone you don't mind playing with,
quite another when it's done as a matter of course, and designed to keep
you quiet and sleepy!"

	"You do have a point," agreed Cory.

	"Hey guys, I have some pants for you, Alistair!" It was
Todd. "Phantom says you can wear these." He held up a pair of very sharp,
almost brand new, khaki trousers. "You'll look super sharp in them! A real
babe magnet!"

	Cory looked as if he had been hit with a brick. "A babe magnet!
What the hell was Todd talking about, and what's with all the bonhomie." He
looked witheringly at his brother. "Are you all right? You didn't get into
the sauce, did you?" he asked, his voice dripping with suspicion.

	"No. Phantom offered a beer, but I declined," returned Todd. He
knew that Cory thought he was up to something and said, "Speaking of which,
Phantom wants you." He handed the trousers to Alistair and jerked his head
sharply toward the door. "He wants to talk to you about . . . something."

	"Now?"

	"Yeah, now." Todd turned to Alistair, who had put on the
trousers. "Like I said, you look great."

	As Cory left the room he could hear his brother asking Alistair
about the Sealing Ceremony, and wondered what The Phantom was up to now.



******



	The Imperial City Restaurant was the premier Chinese dining room in
the city. It attracted not only tourists, who filled the tables at lunch
and dinner, but the elite of the city, politicians, city officials, police
brass, anyone who was anyone. They were never disappointed.

	The main dining room was actually on two floors, reached by a
broad, carpeted staircase, the second floor a balconied adjunct to the main
level. Above these rooms were the banquet rooms, some large, some
small. Above that was the ballroom, always booked for a wedding or a
reception.

	The food was beyond excellent, for Michael employed only the most
tested and experienced chefs, almost every one of them imported originally
from Hong Kong where they had spent years catering to the whims of first,
the British officials and Tai Pans of the Crown Colony and later, American
tourists, who expected nothing less than the very best. Michael's chefs
offered a mind-boggling array of dishes. His wine cellar was famous, and it
was said that his bartenders could mix any drink a customer might wish,
without exception. Reservations were essential.

	Michael's guests did not dine in the main room. He had decreed a
Chinese banquet and the guests were conducted to a large, garishly
decorated room with huge round tables, usually reserved for wedding
receptions and the like. There was no formal seating plan, and the guests
sat where they wished, and with whom they wished. Arden managed to snag a
chair between The Phantom and Harry. Alistair sat between the Twins. The
other Cousins placed themselves between knights and guests. Michael's table
was reserved for the Major, Chef, Pete Sheppard, Laurence, Patrick Tsang,
Commander Stockman, Andy, Kyle and the ladies. With everyone seated no one
seemed to notice, or care, that one chair remained empty. Doctor
Bradley-Smith was late.

	Outside the dining room the protection force sat at tables, giving
the appearance of casual diners to any who happened to look their way. Alex
Grinchsten and Ned Hadfield sat closest to the door leading to their
charges and were settling in to eat. Downstairs the main entrance and the
kitchen entrances were likewise under guard. Michael took no chances and
even the attendant in the gents was replaced by one of the less repulsive
looking Tsangs.

	The guests had barely sat down when a phalanx of white-jacketed
waiters emerged from the kitchens, each man bearing a laden tray. As the
cadets and non-Chinese guests watched wide-eyed the waiters placed before
each guest a jade and china rice bowl, and a long, flat box. At his table,
traditionally sited near the serving door leading to the kitchens, Michael
rose and bowed ceremonially. "Dear friends, brothers, and guests. I welcome
you to my humble establishment and offer these small gifts to remind you of
our evening."

	His speech was more or less traditional. It was expected of every
host at every formal Chinese banquet. The dinner favours were
not. Mrs. Arundel gasped when she opened the box. "Michael," she said
firmly, "this is much too much!"

	Michael gestured airily. "The value is small compared to the
friendship I enjoy. Please, accept the gift."

	Mrs. Arundel studied the gift, a pair of chopsticks unlike any she
had ever seen. The eating utensils were of gold - she was certain that
Michael would never offer plate - with small rubies inset in the
handles. She knew that while Michael pretended to eschew anything Chinese
if he could, he had still conformed to tradition. Red meant luck. Diamonds,
which were avoided in the main, were white, which was the colour of
death. She shook her head as she then studied the rice bowl, a small
masterpiece of carver's art. She wanted to refuse, for the gifts were
magnificent and must have cost a small fortune. Still, she knew enough of
Chinese culture that she could not refuse them. It would be an unforgivable
insult, no matter how well intentioned. She did not want her host to think
that his gifts were less than perfect.

	She glanced at her sons, who were comparing their chopsticks with
The Phantom, and nodded. "You are much too kind, Michael. Of course I shall
keep them. They are very beautiful."

	Michael beamed.

	She had barely expressed her thanks when the waiters returned
bearing huge trays laden with the first course of the banquet, ten cold
dishes. Mrs. Randolph surveyed the array of food and wondered aloud, "What
does one drink with such wonderful food?" she asked rhetorically. When her
husband was alive he always insisted on beer. However, she did not think
that beer was what Michael would approve of.

	"Champagne," exclaimed Michael. This was also traditional. With
massive amounts of food a good host offered massive amounts of
liquor. "Now, what shall we have? Bollinger? Mumm's? Wait, I know." He
turned and spoke in rapid fire Mandarin to the Head Waiter. The only words
the others could understand were "Louis Roederer, Appellation Cristal,
1964."

	This time it was the Major gasped. Cristal 1964 was a vintage year,
and went for something like $600.00 the bottle, if it could be found.

	As the waiters bustled about, placing glasses and pouring wine, The
Phantom asked Alistair, "Are we supposed to eat all this?" he asked.

	"Oh, no," replied Alistair. What you do is take some in your bowl,
just a little of each dish. That way you gain the full benefit of the
sentiments offered." He paused to flash a dirty look at Arden, who was
giggling as he tried to teach Harry how to use chopsticks.

	Arden was in heaven, smugly confident in his new friendship with
Harry, and the Twins, and revelling in his new outfit - all borrowed for
the evening: a Detroit Redwings hockey jersey (Calvin), baggy issue shorts
(Joey) and low cut boat shoes, worn without socks, courtesy of Kevin (Arden
had very big feet).

Harry, who was thoroughly enjoying himself, did not have the heart to tell
Arden that he already knew how to manipulate the utensils, nor to point out
that Arden's smugness was somewhat diminished by the ubiquitous face of
Mickey Mouse that was leering from under the hem of his shorts (boxers,
courtesy of Simon, who had been given them as a Christmas present and
trying to get rid of them ever since).

	Pointedly ignoring his brother, Alistair continued. "That is beef,
that is prawns, and that . . ." he pointed to a large bowl of what was
apparently a salad, " . . . is `jai'. It is traditionally served at New
Year's, but I would think Mr. Michael wishes to express his true
sentiments. Jai is a vegetarian dish, very traditional and very symbolic."

	"How so?" asked The Phantom as he reached for a small portion of
what Alistair told him was ji, which was generic Mandarin for chicken, in
this case "Drunk Chicken" because it was cooked with white wine.

	"Well, the ingredients each symbolize something." Alistair pointed
with his chopsticks. "Lotus seed for instance to signify a wish for many
male offspring." He pointed again. "Ginkgo nuts, to represent silver
ingots, black moss seaweed for exceeding wealth."

	"What's that?" asked The Phantom, indicating a part of the dish.

	"Oh, that is dried bean curd, for the fulfilment of wealth and
happiness. Bamboo shoots also . . ."

	Before Alistair could continue The Phantom's education with an
explanation of the significance of dried bean curd, Doctor Bradley-Smith
came fluttering into the room and sat, as if it were his due, at Michael's
table, offering specious and gratuitous excuses for his tardiness. As he
settled into his chair he looked around and saw the cadets and other guests
observing proper Chinese etiquette (coached by the Cousins), taking small
pieces of this and that, sampling each dish. "Well, that's what the kids
get for stuffing themselves earlier," he sniffed self-righteously."

	The Phantom stiffened, which was not lost on Alistair. He wondered
what was going on, but did not think it his place to comment.

	"Well, I'm famished," said the doctor to no one in particular. He
saw the carved rice bowl and pushed it aside and waggled a finger at a
passing waiter. He asked for a plate. While he waited he saw the box
containing the dinner favour, opened and exclaimed, "Oh, how positively
precious!"

	This time Alistair stiffened. The Phantom looked at him and asked,
"What?"

	Alistair's eyes were wide, and his face was pale. "Look at the
chopsticks," he whispered.

	The Phantom looked. At first he saw nothing different. The same
gold shaft, the same gold haft set with . . . diamonds. The Phantom gaped,
and then turned to Alistair. "Diamonds," he whispered to Alistair. "White
diamonds!"

	"A great insult," whispered Alistair. "Bad joss, very bad." He
looked evenly at The Phantom. "The Serenity has sent a message." Alistair
paused. "Do you know what the message is?"

	The Phantom knew. White - the colour of death.

	Watching as the doctor piled his plate with too much food, The
Phantom nodded. He knew, but would say nothing. He watched, as the doctor
seemed to favour one particular dish, taking a second helping. "That looks
interesting," he said. "We have some of it too." He reached out to take a
portion of the delectable looking food. Alistair's hand on his stopped him.

	"I would not, if I were you," advised Alistair seriously.

	The Phantom saw Arden, who had been watching, make a horrible
face. "What is it?" The Phantom asked.

	"Snake!" exclaimed Arden in an exaggerated whisper. Then he
pretended to gag.

	Harry fixed a beady eye on the doctor who was busy stuffing his
face and being pretentious. "Snake, huh?" he asked Arden, who nodded,
yes. "Poisonous?" Arden shook his head, no. "Pity."



******



	Coached by the Cousins, the young knights managed not to do
anything that would embarrass their host, or themselves. Alistair explained
to his tablemates that a Chinese banquet was very stylized. Only the best
dishes were offered and the host, in this case Michael, was not being
ostentatious in offering the special dinner favours or the vintage
champagne. This was not only traditional, but also expected. A host, who
offered second-rate food, or cheap liquor, would lose much face. Also
traditional were Michael's apologies for the meagre and ill-prepared
food. Everybody knew that the opposite was true, but a good host must never
boast at the grandeur and plenty he offered.

	Following the cold dishes came two soups, Shark's Fin and Bird's
Nest, both very special dishes. Alistair did not care for either but as
host of the table (a Cousin was at each table to act as "host" in Michael's
stead) he poured the soup from the tureens offered by the waiters into the
rice bowls. When he was finished serving, Alistair whispered to The Phantom
that perhaps he should just take a sip. The soups were not to everyone's
taste.

	The Phantom took Alistair's advice. He tasted the Shark's Fin,
which was gelatinous, and the clear, broth-like Bird's Nest. Harry gulped
down a bowl of each soup, a gesture that would please the most demanding of
Chinese hosts. Harry did opine, in a low whisper to Todd, that the Shark's
Fin soup tasted like something he'd get if he boiled his Pusser gummers in
motor oil.

	At Michael's table Commander Stockman, Kyle, and Andy followed
Michael's lead. Mrs. Arundel, who had been a guest at more than one formal
Chinese dinner, coached her ladies.

	Doctor Bradley-Smith marched to his own drummer, trying to impress
everyone with his knowledge of Chinese culture, and failing miserably. He
simpered over every dish offered, ate prodigiously and committed `lese
majesty' by asking for rice, fried preferred. Michael, his face blank,
directed the shocked waiter to bring a plate of rice.

	The Phantom, who had overheard, asked what it was the doctor had
done. Alistair played with his food and then explained. "By asking for a
dish that is not provided the guest suggests that the host has not provided
enough food. It is a great insult."

	The doctor's unintentional insult was not lost on Mrs. Arundel. She
sat, her back straight, her face calm, twirling her wedding ring around and
around her finger. The gesture was not lost on her sons. Cory gently nudged
Todd and nodded. Todd paled. When his mother started twirling her ring his
father hurried to his study and locked the door. When his mother twirled
her ring Cory had been known to hide under his bed. Todd always locked
himself in the bathroom. It was a hell of a lot safer. His mother always
observed the sanctity of the loo!

	"She's pissed?" asked The Phantom.

	"Big time," muttered Cory. He gestured with his chopsticks. "Keep
eating. Maybe she won't notice us!"

	The ignorance of the doctor was also not lost on the Cousins, who
shook their heads. They knew that Michael would say nothing - as a good
host he could not. They also knew that the insult would not be forgotten.

	Alistair ate sparingly. His dark eyes seemed to grow darker every
time he had occasion to glance in the doctor's direction. Somehow, for some
reason, Alistair felt insulted. The other guests had been very careful to
observe the traditions, asking before making a mistake. Yet this crude man,
this supposedly educated westerner, was ruining everything by his stupidity
and cloddish and caddish behaviour.

	The Phantom, seeing Alistair's brooding face, gently placed his
hand on the young Chinese's thigh and patted it gently. "This is a time to
pretend to see nothing," he murmured.

	"But he cares nothing for us!" stormed Alistair in a harsh
whisper. "He has been welcomed into the Serenity's presence, treated as an
honoured guest and he insults us! He is a fool!"

	"He is worse than that," said The Phantom, never raising his
voice. He watched as Arden sneaked a gulp of champers from Harry's glass,
smiled, and then said carefully. "Michael knows what is going on. He is a
gentleman and will say nothing. You are a gentleman and I suggest that you
follow Michael's lead."

	Alistair wanted to protest - loudly, but knew that what his new
friend was saying was correct. He sighed. "Still, one would like to . . ."

	The Phantom patted Alistair's leg again. "Always remember, revenge
is a dish best served cold," he said enigmatically. "Later, we will talk."

	Alistair's eyes widened slightly. "We will?"

	Nodding, The Phantom smiled grimly. "We will."



******



	A Chinese banquet is unlike anything seen in the Western world,
where each course - usually one special dish - is served with a
complementary wine. At a Chinese banquet, called a "chiu-hsi", or "wine
spread", the host decides what alcoholic beverage will be served.  Chef,
together with The Phantom, the officers, and Michael, kept an eye on the
younger guests, as the wine glasses were filled and refilled with
champagne. The Cousins knew enough not to get into the bubbly, as did the
young knights, although Arden got decidedly giggly sipping not so
surreptitious drinks from Harry's glass (which Harry abetted), and fell off
of his chair, twice. This earned him a sharp look from Alistair, and an
even sharper warning to behave lest Arden embarrass the Serenity. Harry
snickered and slipped Arden another sip.

	What also differentiated a Chinese banquet from a Western banquet
was that while there was a main dish offered with each course, the waiters
also brought out trays and bowls and plates piled with complementary
dishes. The soups of honour, so to speak, Shark's Fin and Bird's Nest, were
accompanied by additional bowls of soups, which Alistair told The Phantom
were called "Tang" in Mandarin. Some were simple, tomato soup with bean
sprouts, Shanghai style spicy sour soup, and what looked to be a chowder of
sorts. As the waiters offered this dish, the Cousins, almost unison, shook
their heads, no.

	The soup looked delicious, and the doctor seemed quite taken with
it, filling his bowl twice. The Phantom watched the man greedily slurping
his soup and asked, "What is it?"

	This time Alistair gagged. "Swamp eel chowder!"

	The Phantom politely declined the offered soup.

	After the soup the waiters offered a richly decorated beef course,
called "Niu" in Mandarin, in this case a baron of beef. Then came the fish,
"Hai Xian", the main dish being lobster, accompanied by baked prawns,
shrimps with ham and bamboo shoots, oysters in a special sauce and what
looked like a length of garden hose. This, as it turned out, was a steamed
whole eel in Black Bean Sauce, which did not prove popular with the diners,
except for Doctor Bradley-Smith, who pronounced it exceptional. This time
Michael stifled a gag.

	Following the fish the waiters appeared carrying trays of sweet
cakes, rich with cream and sugar, and Chef raised his eyes to Heaven,
despairing to Commander Stockman that they would never get the lads to bed
tonight! They'd all be on a sugar high and God help us all!

	The next course was a variety of pork dishes, "Zhu", then more fish
in the form of scallops, and then, to signal that the banquet was half
done, Peking duck with scallion brushes, hoi sin sauce and thin pancakes.

	Each course was service with a variety of vegetable dishes, called,
"Shu Chai", beans, mushrooms, and baby ears of corn for the most part, but
also fried white fungus in a sour sauce, cabbage, bean curd, and potato
patties.

	Next came "Ji", a variety of chicken dishes, more sweets, and then
"Dan", egg dishes, the main dish being pigeon eggs with black pepper and
fresh mushrooms. Following the egg dishes came the traditional dish to
signify that the banquet was coming to an end: a whole stuffed fish - carp
- decorated with gold leaf symbols for luck and wealth. The fish was placed
on the tables with the head pointing toward the table host and none of the
Cousins seemed at all surprised when the fish was pointed toward Alistair.

	The waiters then passed around something that was relatively
unknown outside of the Chinese community: Dim Sum, a Guangdong stuffed,
steamed dumpling served from round, bamboo baskets. These proved to be very
popular and Harry asked for a doggy bag of them, a faux pas in Western eyes
but a great compliment to the host, and to the chef.

	"Will it never end?" asked The Phantom.

	Fred, who was sitting opposite, shook his head. "It's almost done."
He saw the quizzical look on The Phantom's face and explained that when he
had been allowed to accompany his parents, before his unfortunate public
school incident, and banishment, he had attended a dinner at the Taiwanese
legation in London. Michael did it better, according to Fred.

	As if the guests needed more sugar, dessert, "Tian Pin", was
served, a variety of small plates piled with custard cups, tangerine duff,
peaches in a sweet glaze, almond cookies stuffed apples and creamy cakes.

	When the table was finally cleared of sweets, the waiters brought
out large platters piled high with "Fan", plain white rice, which the
Cousins cautioned the others not to eat, to just pick away, because to eat
one's rice might hint that the host - Michael - had not provided enough
food. Doctor Bradley-Smith, who seemed to possess a hollow leg, consumed
two bowls. It helped with the digestion, he said.



******



	With the banquet over the guests almost en masse, retired to the
nearest heads. The Phantom used the pee break to ask Tyler to come
alongside when they returned to the mansion. He had something very
important he needed to talk with the Master-at-Arms about.



******



	Tyler looked at his drink, looked at Val, and then asked, "How can
we be sure?"

	Shrugging, The Phantom replied, "We can't. If what Peter overheard
is true, Pete Sheppard is going to somehow arrange to get Doctor
Bradley-Smith into the sack." He shuddered. The thought of having to
"sleep" with the doctor was almost as repulsive of having to bed Little Big
Man.

	"In order to tell him something that cannot be told any other way?"
asked Val. "Surely . . ."

	Colin leaned forward in his chair. "Guys, neither Phantom nor I are
privy to what is going on down below. Something is up! You can feel
it. Look at all the guards, and the `protection officers'. Did you know
that every one of our minders is armed?" He glanced at The Phantom. "Alex
Grinchsten has asked me to come down to the armoury to be outfitted. He
wants me to carry a gun!"

	"I know," replied The Phantom wearily. "I don't like it, but it's
necessary."

	"Why," Colin asked. "I'd probably shoot my dick off as I was
pulling the damned pistol from its holster!"

	The Phantom did not see the humour in Colin's remark. He scowled,
muttered something about Colin not daring to shoot his dick off, and
regarded the others. "Look, we know that Michael Chan is involved in other
things, things that don't bear looking at too closely."

	"He's a gangster," said Val bluntly. "A very gentlemanly gangster,
true, but a gangster nevertheless."

	Finally, the other side of Michael Chan was out in the open. The
Phantom felt the need, however, to defend Michael. "I don't know what he's
into, and I don't care. I do know that he's not into drugs, or
prostitution. According to The Gunner, and Chef, Michael's business empire
was formed years ago. He's just carrying on with his business."

	"He's an honourable gangster," said Tyler dryly.

	"He is also the Grand Master of the Order," Colin pointed out.

	"Yes, and if he were not we would not be here," seconded The
Phantom. He looked reflective and then said, "Whatever is going on is
two-fold. One, it has something to do with what he calls his
`business'. Second, whether we like it or not, Doctor Bradley-Smith is a
Knight of the Order."

	"A knight who is, allegedly, involved with the one," opined
Val. "And because of his involvement is prepared, allegedly, to betray the
second!"

	"You sound like a lawyer," sniped Tyler.

	"Maybe so, but I agree with Phantom. I think that someone, one of
Michael's enemies, is going to put the blocks to him. Michael hasn't quite
gone to the mattresses, yet," said Val. "But he's close."

	"What . . . `gone to the mattresses' . . . what the hell is that
supposed to mean?" demanded Tyler.

	Grinning, Val reached out and gave Tyler's arm a squeeze. "Hey, you
never saw `The Godfather'?" he asked.

	Testily pushing Val's hand away, Tyler snapped, "Give me a break,
Michael's `The Godfather'?"

	"In the Chinese underworld, he is the Serenity," responded The
Phantom. "It amounts to the same thing."

	"Are you saying we're in the middle of some gang war?" Colin
gasped, his voice squeaky. "Jesus, man, we can't . . ."

	"Not quite," said The Phantom quietly. "Michael would never have
brought us here if he had known what was coming down. I also think that
whoever is making a move, won't do it while we're here."

	"So now you're an expert on the Mob?" asked Colin with a sniff.

	"It's not the Family," said Val almost defiantly. "They're not that
big out here, and any Family involvement would have to come from down
south. Has there been any hint of that?" he asked The Phantom directly.

	"No. And how would you know, anyway?" returned The Phantom.

	Shrugging, Val replied, "My father has friends. If you're Sicilian,
you have friends, if you know what I mean. I know what the Family is like
back home and if what Peter told you is the truth, then it would never be
Family."

	"Again, why?" asked Tyler, amazed at this hidden side of his lover.

	"Well, the Family is very straight-laced, very prudish, really." He
looked directly at The Phantom. "Peter overheard Pete telling Patrick Tsang
that the doctor was in a brothel, getting his ass pounded?"

	The Phantom nodded. "Words to that effect, yes."

	"Well, there's one piece of the puzzle in place," replied Val with
a knowing look. "The Family might run whorehouses but never male
whorehouses. Such a thing is an infamnia, and any member of the Family
would be shunned and despised by his fellows. Trust me on this,
guys. Whatever outfit is gunning for Michael, whatever piece of shit the
doctor is reporting to, he ain't Family."

	Tyler's eyes were wide as he regarded Val. "And here I thought that
you were just a sweet, innocent little Sea Cadet!"

	"Humph," snorted Val disdainfully. "I ain't little. Need I remind
you that I am the owner of the biggest circumcised Sicilian dick - there
are only three, you know - in Saskatoon?"

	"No," exclaimed Tyler. "Let's not go there."

	The Phantom could not help laughing. Then he sobered, remembering
the nights when he had visited Val. Val was right, he was not little!

	Colin, who had seen Val in a Speedo, smiled his agreement wondered
idly who owned the other two.

	Deliberately pouring himself an overlarge drink, The Phantom took a
deep breath and turned to look at Colin, and Tyler, and Val. "It is not
important to us which outfit is behind whatever it is that is going
on. What is important is that the doctor, a Knight, has, for whatever
reason - money, sexual favours, drugs - betrayed his oath, and his
brothers." He looked sternly at the others. "And that involves us."

	Colin groaned softly. "Phantom," he began carefully, "I know your
feelings about the Order - I share them - but damn it, Phantom, we're
already involved in trying to figure out this paedophile ring. That's why
we're here, remember?"

	"I remember," replied The Phantom coldly. "And I am not asking that
we become involved here, not at all."

	"Then what are you asking?" demanded Tyler. "If Pete is working on
something for Michael we should just mind our own business."

	Val shook his head in agreement. "Michael wouldn't want us sticking
our noses into something that is none of our business."

	"We are not," said The Phantom firmly. "We are going to help Pete
do whatever it is he must do."

	"Come on, Phantom," returned Val. "We're not going to tuck him up
in bed with the skank!"

	"No, but we are going to be there when he's finished. He'll need us
. . ." The Phantom looked directly at Val and Tyler. "As well you know."

	Both senior cadets shot nervous glances at Colin. "Um, yeah, we
know," responded Tyler, embarrassed. He knew what The Phantom had done, and
had a feeling that Colin knew nothing about it.

	Colin looked carefully at The Phantom, and then at the two visibly
embarrassed, nervous cadets. "Okay, what's going on?"

	The Phantom had dreaded the coming of this moment. He had hoped to
keep Colin unaware of what he had done, but then he realized that his
relationship with the young officer demanded total truth. Taking a deep
breath The Phantom spoke slowly, his voice low. "I did something that
needed to be done. I took no pleasure in it, and after I had done it I lost
my mind. Afterward, the Twins, and Val, and Tyler, were there for me."

	"Which was?" asked Colin, his voice cold. Then he added before The
Phantom could reply, "Was whatever you did that bad, that you are ashamed
of having done it?"

	"In so many ways, yes," replied The Phantom. He gave Colin a
piercing look. "We had to silence a lying, backstabbing, dangerous little
bastard who didn't care how many lives his lies ruined! His goal was to
destroy our credibility, destroy our good names, destroy, destroy,
destroy!"

Seeing the look on Colin's face, The Phantom continued, his demeanour
calmer. "If there could have been another way, I would have taken that
course. In many ways I am ashamed of what I had to do, but in many other
ways I know in my heart it was the right thing to do." His green eyes grew
dark as he looked at Colin. "Pete is doing what he thinks is right, doing
something he feels only he can do, in the only way he can do it. If he is
like me he will have nightmares, and nights of self-recrimination over
it. But it had to be done then, and it has to be done now!"

	His voice calm, his eyes never leaving The Phantom, Colin asked,
"What did you do?"

	"There was a cadet. We called him `Little Big Man'. He's the one
who started this whole crazy thing we're on. He was sent out to Aurora to
spy on the cadets, and to recruit for his neo-Nazi father. Apparently there
is a dark underworld in the Armed Forces composed of men who believe in a
white, Anglo-Saxon world only, without Jews, or Blacks, or gays in that
world."

	"His name is Paul Greene," supplied Tyler with a sad
expression. "He played drums in the Band. He also wrote letters home
accusing the cadets of horrible things." He looked at Colin. "Paul wrote
that Val and I were sneaking into the barracks at night and molesting the
Sea Puppies. He accused his own brother, Matt, of having a sexual
arrangement with The Gunner."

	"His father wrote to SIU, demanding an investigation. We found out
about it by accident and we tried to keep an eye on the little bastard,"
continued The Phantom. "We also found out that Special Branch was
investigating the organization that sent Paul out in the first place. It's
called the Aryan Brotherhood."

	Colin gestured for another drink, which Tyler poured for him. "I
think I need this," Colin said quietly. He looked at The Phantom. "Go on,
please."

	"Paul was determined to bring us all down. He wrote terrible things
in his letters, none of it true, but we could not take that chance that his
letters would be sent home. We also could not take the chance that when he
got home he would shoot his mouth off. Too many innocent people were
involved."

	"All right, I understand your concern," said Colin, his voice
heavy. "But were things so bad that . . ."

	"Colin, you know what it's like in the Navy. One word, a hint, and
your career is down the tubes! As far as SIU is concerned it's `march the
guilty bastard in!' and there's not a damned thing you can do about it. You
have to prove your innocence and even if you do there will always be that
little black cloud of doubt following you around. If Paul had shot his
mouth off there would have been an investigation and Tyler could have
kissed his appointment to Royal Roads goodbye. The Twins would have been
turfed and their father embarrassed. The Gunner, who had done nothing
wrong, never slept with anyone but me would have lost the very thing he
holds dear. He would have be thrown out of the Navy, or kept in rank and
passed over until he got the hint: get out. You of all people must know how
it works."

	Colin nodded. "I do. I wish I didn't, but I do." He regarded The
Phantom a moment. "Okay, what did you do? Sleep with him?"

	The sharp intakes of breath on the parts of Tyler and Val told
Colin that was exactly what The Phantom had done! "You did, didn't you," he
managed to gasp in clearly apparent shock.

	"Yes. The details are unimportant," replied The Phantom sadly. "I
went into his barracks, I forced him to have sex with me, and then . . ."

	"Phantom lost his mind!" growled Tyler. He looked directly at
Colin. "You weren't there! You didn't know the fear! We did! You didn't see
him . . . afterwards. We did!"

	Much to everyone's surprise, Val burst into tears. Colin's tone
suggested . . . disapproval of what The Phantom had done, and Val would not
allow that! He rose from his chair and encompassed The Phantom in his
arms. "He did it for us!" he said through his weeping. "He did it for his
brothers, to protect them, to save them!" Val buried his face in The
Phantom's neck, his shoulders heaving as he continued. "There was no other
way! No other way!"

	The Phantom gently stroked Val's back. "It's over and done with,
Val. Let it go."

	Val drew back and then turned on Colin "You weren't there!" he
growled, his voice low, his face wet with tears. "You can't ever know what
it did to him!" He took a step toward the startled young officer. "Don't
you dare judge Phantom! Don't you dare, sir! You don't have the right!"

	Carefully, Colin reached out, the tips of his fingers brushing
Val's shoulders. "I am not judging him, Val." Colin saw The Phantom about
to speak and held up his hand. "Just as I would never judge you, or Tyler,
or any of the Boys of Aurora." Before Val could protest Colin enfolded the
young Italian in his arms. "I am not judging, but I am wondering, amazed,
at the depth of feeling you have for him, for all of the other cadets. And
you are right, I cannot judge, or comment, because I was not there, and I
am still not one of you."

	Val pulled away. "Why would you say that? You're . . . sir you are
one of us. You're a part of the Tapestry, as Phantom says." Val noisily
wiped his nose. "Damn it, sir, you have to be one of us. If you weren't,
why then Phantom wouldn't love you!"

	Colin shook his head. "Val, I know that he loves me, just as he
loves you and Tyler, and yes, the Twins, and Harry, all the cadets and
young men from Aurora. I also suspect he just added the Cousins to his
list.

	The Phantom squirmed self-consciously. "Well, yes, maybe."

	Chuckling, Colin shook his head slowly. There was no maybe about
it. Then he said, "But I was never a part of what happened in Aurora," he
said calmly. "I never shared in your experiences, in your lives. I wish I
had. I can only tell you that I envy you, Val, you Tyler, all of you. You
have something so special, a bond that can never be broken." He smiled
crookedly. "Chef, for his own reasons, chose me to be the `Guardian of the
Prince', which meant more than just being Phantom's friend and yes, his
lover. With it came certain responsibilities, which while they seem to pile
on more and more, I don't mind. I said `yes', and I'm still here."

	Colin returned to his chair, sat down, and gathered his
thoughts. "I think that at first Chef meant that I was supposed to keep a
certain `Prince' out of trouble," he said presently. "But now, I think the
job entails much more and I want you all to know that when I take on a job,
I do it properly. I don't judge, but I don't back down, either, if I think
something is wrong." Fearing a storm of protest, Colin held up his had and
pointed his finger toward the ceiling. "Now, before you all reach for the
pitchforks and torches, hear me out!"

	Val blew his nose in the handkerchief The Phantom had handed to
him. "Why would we do that?" he asked. "And I'm sorry, sometimes I get
emotional."

	Grinning, Tyler added, "Does he ever!" Then he looked evenly at
Colin. "We're listening."

	Squaring his shoulders, Colin said, "First, I see that you all have
an iron-bound loyalty to each other. As Guardian I hope I am a part of that
loyalty."

	"You are," murmured The Phantom.

	"Good. I also wish to promise, on my honour, that I share that
loyalty and I will never betray any of the knights. I might not approve, or
be sceptical about what you clowns get up to, but I won't judge and when
push comes to shove - if it ever does - I'll be there, for Phantom, for you
Val, and for Tyler, for all of the Boys of Aurora."

	"And we'll be there for you," Val countered. "You never had to
doubt that!"

	"I know," agreed Colin. He cleared his throat. "Now, to my
point. As Guardian I feel that I have the right to be consulted about what
Phantom, and his associates, are up to. I believe I have the right to
encourage him in what he is up to, because most of the time he's
right. But, more importantly, I think I have the right to warn him when I
think he's about to make a bonehead play."

	"Are you saying that what Phantom wants to do is a `bonehead'
play?" asked Tyler, bristling.

	"Not at all," replied Colin easily. "Having seen how whatever it
was that Phantom did back in Aurora affected you guys - and still affects
you - I understand why he thinks that Pete Sheppard will need support when
he is finished with the doctor." Colin frowned. "Let's face it, having to
bed Doctor Bradley-Smith, particularly if Pete is not gay, or even if he
is, would be a traumatic experience."

	"But Pete thinks, as I did, that he as no option," said The Phantom
quietly. "For whatever his reasons, and I suspect that one of them is that
Michael wants Pete to pass on some disinformation, something so important
to Michael's plans, that Pete can only do it by subterfuge and guile,
because he has to make the disinformation believable." The Phantom's green
eyes flared slightly. "And knowing Michael I also think that other methods
were suggested, and rejected. He does not trust the doctor, not a whit, and
neither do I!"

	"Nor do I," said Colin, "and it is not our place to interfere."
Once again he held up hand to forestall comment. "But I do think that yes,
we should be there for Pete when all is said and done."

	"Meaning?" asked The Phantom, wondering what Colin was suggesting.

	"We can't let the doctor know. That's the easy part because nobody
wants to have anything to do with him." Colin smiled grimly. "We cannot
even hint, not even a look, that we are now a part of Pete's conspiracy."

	"As if we would," sniffed Val angrily. "Pete's a good guy. I think
he's doing something necessary, and honourable."

	"I agree," returned Colin. "So we help him, but only afterward."

	"How?" The Phantom asked.

	"We have to make ourselves scarce when Pete makes his move," Colin
said. "We have to make the doctor think that we're just going about our
business, Pete as well. We must all act as normally, or as abnormally, as
possible."

	Scratching his chin, The Phantom asked, "What else."

	"We have to decide who to bring into this little conspiracy,"
replied Colin. "The younger lads should not be a part of it. They can't
know what is going on because being young, and inexperienced, they might
let something slip."

	"I agree," said Tyler. He nodded at The Phantom and Val. "Colin's
right. We can't take the chance."

	Both The Phantom and Val returned Tyler's nod. "With luck, most of
them will be too tired to notice anything," offered Val.

	Colin smiled. "With luck, but don't bank on it." He cocked his ear,
listening to the music that filled the garden outside the bedroom windows,
and continued, "From the sound of it they're having a hell of a good time."

	"I think I can help there," said Tyler. "We can give them something
to chatter and gossip about by telling them that Ned Hadfield wants to put
us all through some obstacle course that's built out in the woods."

	"He even offered to let us fire some of the Security Force's new
toys," interjected Val, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. Val loved
firearms of all calibres and makes.

	The Phantom thought a moment. "Sort of a war game?"

	"He didn't go quite that far," responded Tyler. He shrugged. "Not
all of the guys have fatigues, you know. And not all of the guys have ever
played in the woods." He grinned. "But it sounds like a good idea!"

	The Phantom agreed. "I am sure that we can draw some kit from the
Security Force. They have men wandering around the woods all the time and
they must have camouflage uniforms. I'll ask Alex." He saw the questioning
looks on the faces of the others and continued, "Alex is my minder. He
won't leave me to play silly buggers, so we have to tell him what we're up
to."

	"Might I also suggest that we tell Andy and Kyle?" said Colin. "It
might be a that Pete will want to have someone closer to his own age around
when he returns from . . . well, you know what I mean."

	The Phantom could see the logic in that. "Yes, you're right. And
Andy is a Marine, and he's been in combat, so he can understand Pete's
reasoning." He laughed quietly. "And he might be useful if we're going to
be playing Teddy Bears Picnic."

	Colin answered, "And if we do it right, the Security Force is sure
to get a surprise!"

	Tyler sniggered. He got the inside joke and would explain it to
Val, later. "We'll need to bring in the Twins, if only to ensure that their
curiosity doesn't upset our apple cart. And Harry. He's still pissed off
that we didn't ask him when, um, well, when Phantom was in Pete's
position." He seemed to think a moment. "We have another problem as well,"
though," he said.

	"We do?" asked Val.

	"Yes. The Cousins. What do we do with them? They're already talking
about asking `The Serenity' to let them stay the night. We just can't run
off in full battle gear, y'know."

	"And I doubt that any of them have any sort of woods experience,"
offered The Phantom reflectively. "But I agree, they are a problem,
especially the younger ones."

	"Arden you mean," offered Val with a slight raise of one
eyebrow. "He's got an almighty crush on Harry."

	"Harry knows, and Harry will handle it." The Phantom paced a bit
and then turned. "We can bring them in. It will take some doing, but I
think Michael will approve." He saw scepticism on three faces and
continued. "Look, they don't have anyone other than their amahs, and each
other. My guess is that they do everything as a group, and are never
allowed to do anything that would bring them into contact with the outside
world. They've been cosseted, and protected, and spoiled all their
lives. Perhaps it's time to show them how to be men."

	"A big order," grumbled Colin. "And how do you plan on doing that?"
he asked The Phantom. "Going to wave your magic wand?"

	The Phantom thought of saying something along the lines of not
waving his wand, which wasn't magic, at anyone, except Colin, but then
decided now was not the time for dirty remarks. "Oh, ye of little faith!"
he exclaimed. "I've been camping and hiking and wandering around Vancouver
Island since I was six! I had two of the best teachers - Big Sam, who is a
Homalco, is a trapper and a hunter and hell and sheeit!" The Phantom's eyes
sparkled with remembrance of days spent in the woods around Mount
Washington with Big Sam and his son. "We even explored the Comox Glacier,"
continued The Phantom enthusiastically, "and when it comes to surviving in
the woods, Big Sam was the best teacher that you will ever find. I know
what to do."

	"You do?" asked Val, surprise written on his face. "You really do?"

	"Hell and sheeit!" exploded The Phantom. "I do and I'll prove it."
He unconsciously puffed out his chest. "I'll take the Cousins and show them
what's what!"

	Tyler glanced at Val and muttered, "You know, I actually believe
him."

	Smiling evilly, Tyler then said, "I think we can give a good
account of ourselves. All of the senior hands have done QUEST, and if he
can con Andy into it, he's been in Vietnam, so yes, let's play silly
buggers with the Security Force."

	Colin coughed delicately. "As much as I like the idea, I have the
definite impression that the Security Force might not be too keen on the
idea."

	Val was about to ask why when The Phantom quickly interjected,
"We'll talk to Ned Hadfield. He doesn't think much of us, I think, and it
might be a good chance to prove to him, and the others in the Security
Force, that were not a bunch of school kids on a lark!"

	Colin nodded sagely. "Yes, bring him in by all means. Ned will have
to arrange most of this `war game' in any event. He can also make sure that
the mobile patrols are well away from whatever designated area he thinks it
best to play in."

	"Oh, we won't be playing," responded The Phantom. "We can show Ned,
and the doubters, that we actually know what we're doing. There won't be
any guns involved, so no one is going to get shot." He smiled
warmly. "Besides, I think that Ned would like us to be friends."

	"So do I," agreed Tyler. "Ned seems to be okay, once you get to
know him. He played poker with us and told us some ripping stories."

	"And some of the dirtiest jokes I ever heard," added Val.

	"And let you win at poker," muttered Colin, not quite under his
breath. He looked up to see Tyler give Val an "oh he did, did he?"
look. "Uh, guys . . ."

	Tyler looked at The Phantom. "He let us win?" he asked quietly.

	The Phantom turned a quiet shade of red. He had hoped that none of
the players would learn of Ned's generous errors. "Um, why, so I
understand."

	"He seemed to lose so . . . easily," offered Val. He turned to
Tyler. "We'll return his money, of course." He looked directly at Tyler,
his eyes saying, "And then some!"

	Tyler nodded. "That would be the honourable thing to do," he
replied diffidently. "Yes, we will return his money." His eyes said, "And
more!"

	The looks exchanged between the Master-at-Arms and the Cadet Chief
Gunnery Instructor were not lost on Colin. He had no idea what revenge they
would wreak on the poor, unfortunate Ned, and he didn't want to
know. "Well, if it's all the same to you, I think I'll just sit back and
keep score,"

	All three of the boys jumped on Colin. "Oh no you won't!" exclaimed
The Phantom when Colin had managed to push the lads away. "You're in this
with us, hook, line and sinker!" Then he smiled winningly. "You're the
Defender if the Prince! Where I go, you go!"

	As he rearranged his clothes Colin growled, "And don't you forget
it!"

	Tyler nodded knowingly at Val. "Now that's love, peasant!" he said
with a grin.

	Val pretended to be insulted. He clasped his hands over his
chest. "Perfidious Albion! You took my gift of gold!" he complained.

	Ordinarily Tyler was in complete control of his emotions, and even
though he knew that Val was joking, he had to respond. "You have given me
oh, so much more, that that," he murmured sincerely.

	Val began to blush furiously and he ducked his head, not knowing
how to respond.

	The Phantom's green eyes sparkled, as he stage-whispered to Colin,
"Now that's love, my lord Defender of Princes!"

	"Betcha Ass!" replied Colin with a huge grin, his blue eyes bright
with the love he felt for The Phantom. "Betcha Ass!"