Date: Sun, 21 Jan 2001 23:54:45 -0600
From: Tags
Subject: Muscle Boy Island

MUSCLE BOY ISLAND

(Ld Guitarist)
Conclusion by Tags, f/k/a Solo3.

I originally found this unfinished story on a web site maintained by
Silocondog.  The author of the beginning of this story, "Lead Guitarist,"
invited suggestions and comments.  Attempts to reach him at the internet
address posted for Lead Guitarist brought nothing but error messages and
frustration.  So, I took the liberty of writing a conclusion for this
story.  I have also altered certain aspects of LG's beginning.  However, I
feel I have left enough of Lead Guitarist's original story intact that its
essence survives.  When I first read this story, I was somewhat dis-
appointed that it had not been finished.  I'd really gotten into the plot
and I would like to have seen where LG was going to take these characters.
In my opinion, LG's story was about more than just casual sex.  Before
deciding to write my own conclusion for this story, I made repeated
attempts to contact the author at the e- mail address posted with the
original version of his uncompleted story.  I got no- where.  But after
posting this version with a different introduction, wherein I mentioned my
interest in communicating with Lead Guitarist, the webmaster of web site
where this story was originally posted, Silicondog, put him in touch with
me and we exchanged e-mails about this and some of his other stories.  It
was a very interesting dialogue.  Interestingly, Lead Guitarist's concept
for his conclu- sion included a character very similar to Jared in the
conclusion of this version, although in Lead Guitarist's planned conclusion
the role of this character was not as prominent as is Jared's in this
version.  There were a number of conceptual dif- ferences between Lead
Guitarist's concepts for a conclusion and mine.

I guess I'm just a sucker for anything about physically strong and
attractive people with tender hearts and souls.  Given LG's invitation to
submit suggestions, since, initially, I had been unable to find him, I
decided to take the liberty of revising and completing this story, myself.
If you're looking for "muscle-sex," beyond LG's, you will be disappointed.
I've added only four additional incidents where there is any sex at all and
in none of these is the sex more than merely incidental to the overall
story line.

The point in the story where LG's work ends and mine begins is clearly
indicated.  On the web site where I first discovered LG's story, I noticed
other stories where the beginning was drafted by one writer and the
conclusion by another, so this sort of thing seems to be common.

My thanks to the webmaster for maintaining this site.

- Tags, formerly known as Solo3

(I am a frequent irc-chat user, hanging out most often in the #gaymuscle
chat channel.)

Disclaimer: This story contains descriptions of sexual acts involving boys
in their late teens, all of them over age 18.  If this type of material is
illegal in your area, or if you are under 18, please stop reading now and
delete this file from your computer.  If you are not interested in stories
involving sex with teenage boys over 18, stop reading now.

"Muscle Boy Island" is a fantasy that involves a group of three teenage
boys and one twenty-year-old who have been genetically engineered for
superhuman strength and muscular development.


It was a sweltering, clear, quiet night in the island jungle.  The little
band of men and boys had found respite from the invaders' relentless
pursuit.  They were biv- ouacked in their safe area, situated on a wooded
knoll commanding the surround- ing approaches.  Eighteen-year old Jack was
standing the mid-watch, wide awake, vigilant, ready to alert his sleeping
comrades at the first sign of an approaching enemy.  A few meters away,
Ricky, who, like the other boys, had stripped down for the night from his
camouflage uniform and boots to his more comfortable and customary bikini
briefs, crept alongside Jared, who was sleeping fitfully on the ground,
half-concealed, under some jungle foliage.  Jared lay on his left side in
the fetal position, his knees tucked in, using his camouflage shirt and his
left arm as a pillow.  He wore loose fitting, camouflage jungle fatigue
pants and a skin- tight, olive-drab under shirt.  In the moon-lit
semi-darkness, his naked right arm and shoulder muscles were gleaming under
a light patina of sweat.  Ricky's pounding heart was in his throat.  He was
hungry for this man...  He had never been more aroused in his whole randy
life!  Ricky grasped Jared's right knee to roll him over on his back.  One
hand on either knee, he began to spread Jared's legs.  He got no further
before the man awoke, exploding into consciousness, his hands around the
boy's throat.  Jared immediately released him.

"Ricky!  What are you doing?!  NEVER creep up on me like that again while
I'm sleeping!  Understand?"

Chastened, Ricky looked into the man's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Jared.  I didn't mean to scare you."

"S'ok, kid.  No real harm done.  Now what did you need?"

Without hesitation Ricky replied simply, "You, Jared...  I need you."

Momentarily, Jared 's heart skipped a beat. This could not POSSIBLY be hap-
pening!  He'd just gotten "clocked" and "hit on" by this nineteen year old
super- boy!  Was he dreaming?  No, he was wide awake now.  This was real
and Ricky had meant what he said.  Have to hand it to the horny bugger...
sure had one hel- luva lotta brass!  Jared considered how best to nip this
"foolishness" in the bud.

"Son, tell ya what...  I'm not going to tell Tom or the other boys anything
about this.  But if we ever manage to get back state-side, we're going to
have to get you some help for this little problem.  It's bad enough you
want a man, not a woman.  Even though it's none of your business, evidently
you've got me pegged...  I've got 'issues,' big time, in that department,
myself.  I don't know what's been going on with you guys on this island
before I got here.  None of my business.  But what- ever it was, if this is
any indication, somebody needs to sit down with you and ex- plain to you
about the outside world.  This place is more like prison.  No women so you
just take what's available.  Who knows, get you out in the real world with
some women and chances are, you might be straight.  Besides, how DARE you
come up on me like this while I'm sleeping?  Jeez, Ricky, hasn't Tom taught
you any better than that?"

No matter what Jared said, Ricky knew very well he and the other boys were
gay.  He'd thought about it and talked about it with the other boys and
even Tom.  No doubt about it, all of them; Eric, Alex, Jack and he were
gay, not bi or straight.

Ricky knew very well that Jared wanted him as badly as he wanted Jared.
They'd been having eye contact, off and on , all day...  And his tree-top
rescue of Jared...  No, not "his," "theirs!"  Jared's coolness and
quickness on the uptake had been critical to Ricky's success in that little
enterprise... and the all too brief moment they'd shared when they were
finally safe, hanging together from that tree-limb, high above the ground,
after he'd rescued Jared...  So much mutual admiration and love had passed,
unspoken between them as they held each other...  His whole life, Ricky had
been surrounded by the men and boys he loved.  Brought up in this
environment of unabashed affection, and, yes, even uninhibited man to man
sex...  Ricky was so... cocksure he would make short work of Jared's
inhibitions.  He would share his beautiful, tanned, hard, muscle-boy body
with Jared, giving him- self without reservation to this man.  He knew he
could light the fires of Jared's passions. Hell, he didn't need to...
Ricky could feel the heat coming at him from Jared, breaking over him in
waves!

So, gently but firmly, he grasped Jared's knees and forced them open.
Jared was strong...  very strong.  But he was powerless to resist the
unbelievable strength in this young lad as he muscled the grown man down on
his back, groping his groin with one hand and exploring Jared's lean, firm,
tight muscles with the other.  Then Ricky buried his face in Jared's
crotch, searching and probing with his tongue through Jared's pants for the
rigid shaft.  He couldn't find it at first but then he did.  Jared's cock
was soft, with no hint at all of response to Ricky's insistent "minis-
trations."  The muscular super-youth sucked and pulled with his lips at
Jared through his trousers to absolutely no avail.  Jared's desperate
thrashing under Ricky's powerful body was equally futile.  The muscle boy
had pinned Jared se- curely and now was dry-humping him.  Jared struggled
mightily against the im- possibly steel-hardened boy, his own muscles
bulging and rippling at supreme ex- ertion, but he could not break free.
Jared might just as well have pitted his con- siderable man-strength
against the inexorable force of some hydraulic-powered industrial machine
tool!  To an observer this role-reversed boy-man "rape" would have seemed
profoundly unsettling, surreal, perversely fascinating.  Ricky was
delirious with pent-up passion for this man that simply would not be
denied.  Keenly aware of his own intoxicating sexual irresistibility, Ricky
was certain he could reach Jared... break through his hang-ups and rescue
him from this obscene, wrong-headed denial of his own longing.  He simply
did not, could not, would not, hear Jared's desperate entreaties and then
demands that he stop... or maybe he just didn't understand.  Ricky told
himself that Jared's thrashing, dogged but futile resistance was no more
than the usual sex-play he shared with Eric or Alex or Jack all the time.
Muscle straining against muscle was the essence of sexual ad- venture for
Ricky and "wrestling" with this big hard man-hunk had set his pas- sions
ablaze.  Finally, the boy moaned and spasmed and jerked as he was seized by
the acute intensity of his orgasm; his seething, hot, unyielding, chiseled
mus- cles surging and rippling under warm, smooth supple boy-flesh.

His lustful fires quenched, Ricky gently shuddered and trembled, clutching
Jared's body, hugging him tightly, lovingly as his burning passion
gradually subsided.

When Ricky finally let him up, Jared was at a rolling boil of apoplexy.
Never in his life had he been so thoroughly emasculated as by this nineteen
year old super- boy who had simply over-powered and had his way with him.
It had been little more than a teen-boy hump.  In his urgent, headlong rush
to climax with Jared, Ricky hadn't even had the presence of mind to shuck
his briefs, which had sub- stantially, if not completely, contained his
ejaculation.  And except for his camou- flage uniform shirt, Jared had been
fully clothed.  But super-boy or no, Jared simply could not get over the
fact that he'd just been "balled" against his will by this nineteen year
old!

Hell of it was, hard as he'd struggled to pry himself loose from this
over-sexed su- per-kid, the real battle had been with himself.  It had
taken every ounce of his will to restrain his own renegade desire for this
beautiful muscle-boy.  He was morti- fied at his own raging hunger for
Ricky.  He flagellated himself unmercifully with shame and self-loathing.
He had never wanted to cry so badly in all his life.  Ricky, for all his
might, was still barely more than a boy with plenty of time to determine
his true "sexual identity;" something Jared wanted no part of... felt he
had no right to be a part of.  He felt passionately that any young man with
a sliver of a chance at a "normal" (straight) sex life deserved that
chance.  And it was the duty of any responsible adult to defend and
preserve that opportunity at all costs.  In Jared's world, his duty to
protect this young man from his own mis-directed lust, as well from Jared's
own lust, was absolute.  There were no excuses for fail- ure.  And Jared's
abject failure of his young friend was total.  He simply would not embrace
the "rationalization" that he'd done his best and that no man alive had the
physical strength to coral the rampaging libidos of any of these four young
muscle studs.

The noise and commotion brought Tom and the other boys who, all but Jack,
standing the mid- watch, had been sleeping nearby.

Ricky had never been told flat "no," to man-sex in his life, ("maybe later
after such and such" or, "now is not the time but later on, after so and
so..." but never flat "no.")  When Jared had said "no" Ricky simply could
not believe this rejec- tion was sincere though, to be sure, it wasn't for
lack of a genuinely valiant effort on Jared's part.  Ricky, raised in
comparative isolation in this island paradise, where sexual permissiveness
was the rule, simply could not believe that when Ja- red had said "no" to
him, "no" was exactly what he meant: "No...  Not now...  Not later...  Not
EVER...  Just NO!"  Moral compunction against free sexual expres- sion had
never been part of the dream-world Tom and Dr. Vanderhaeghe had fashioned
for these boys.  To Ricky, Jared's rebuff, based as it clearly was on moral
reticence, was inconceivable... inhuman... wrong...

But now Ricky was overwhelmed by the full realization of just what he had
just done to his friend.  Truly he had meant Jared no harm, only the joy
and love of hot, sweaty man-sex... and, just as surely, he understood now
that his innocent intentions really didn't matter.  Whatever his reasons,
Jared had said "no" and Ricky had failed to honor that.  While intending
precisely the opposite, he had hurt his big muscular man-friend and hurt
him very badly... not physically, but much worse, in a more profound,
humiliating way...  More, much more than Eric had hurt Tom with that
concussion so many years ago.

Ricky, moaning now in grief and remorse, cried out , "I love you Jared.  I
never meant to hurt you.  Please, Jared.  I only wanted to make love with
you."

The super-youth was kneeling before Jared in supplication, beseeching him
for forgiveness and understanding.  Alex and Jack knelt alongside Ricky.
The two boys joined their pleas with Ricky's.  Given their young age, their
empathy with man and boy was remarkable.  They were genuinely concerned for
Jared's feel- ings.  Whatever other issues were percolating here, no adult
male, especially one like Jared, a formidable ex-Navy Seal, could feel good
about being bested by a nineteen year old in a confrontation of pure
physical strength.  Of equal impor- tance, for all their phenomenal
strength, exceeding Jared's by an order of magni- tude at the very least,
they were prudently fearful that Jared's wounded ego could lead to deadly
repercussions.  They had lost no time joining Ricky in abasing themselves
before this seething, dangerous man.

Eric stood next to Tom.  He understood as well as Alex and Jack that Jared
was unstable, on the verge of exploding.  But, rather than propitiating
him, Eric was determined to use his super-strength to keep the peace should
Jared go off the deep end.  He was not really concerned that Jared would
try anything with him, Ricky, Alex or Jack.  Anything less than lethal
force would probably have been infeasible with any of them, even for Jared.
Besides, Jared owed his life to them and he'd risked his life for them so
he would probably not turn homicidal now, even for this.  Tom, on the other
hand, was another matter.  If Jared decided to "mix it up" with Tom, the
two men could really fuck each other up.  Tom was the bigger man by far;
twelve and a half stone to Jared's nine and a quarter.  But, for all Tom's
advantage in size and strength, Jared was likely the better of the two in a
street fight.  "Hell," Eric thought grimly, "with his hand-to-hand combat
skills, who knows?  Jared might be a handful, even for me."  He resolved
that if Jared came to blows with Tom, he would interpose his body between
them and permit no harm to come to either man.  Eric was fairly sure, not
withstanding Jared's fighting skill, that with his super-strength, he had
what it took to make that stick.  Somebody had to keep their head here
tonight and try to redirect Jared's rage at their enemy.

Jared regarded the four boys, Ricky, Alex and Jack, kneeling before him in
sup- plication and Eric standing next to Tom.  His heart was raging with
ice-cold fury.  He was swimming in it, almost to the point of intoxication.
Like an ascending high-performance aircraft, finally attaining altitude
above a cloud layer, Jared had broken through to a rarefied stratum of
heady, near self-destructive super-rage.  With ominous calm, he dismissed
the four youths, inviting them, softly, menac- ingly, to get out of his
sight.  Withered by Jared's icy glare, the boys, even Eric, complied and
retreated; but hovered nearby at a discrete, respectful distance.  Eric,
more worried now that ever, turned to his three friends.

"Guys, I know this is hard but we gotta snap outta this now...  right now.
Jared's way beyond mad and maybe I don't blame him.  But I'm really scared
he's gonna go flaky on us.  We gotta be ready in case he tries to hurt Tom
or himself or what- ever...  Now pay attention and be ready to break it
up."

Alex and Jack nodded gravely, but Ricky was still really out of it, his
mind reeling from shame and self-reproach.  Eric pressed into him, with his
arm over Rick's shoulder.

"Ricky, I love you, "little brother."  If there was any way I could take
this off you I'd do it in a heartbeat.  You've never done anything mean or
cruel in your life.  Tom knows that, so do we and, no matter what you've
done, deep in his heart, so does Jared.  You saved his life today and
Jared's put his life on the line for all of us.  But he's got some really
weird stuff going off in his head right now.  You gotta believe me man,
we're gonna work our way through this and come out OK.  You, me, Jack,
Alex, Tom and even Jared.  But Ricky, right now I need you.  We gotta be
ready to break this up if things go south.  I know how bad you're hurting
right now but your feelings have got to wait.  I can't afford to have you
zoning out on me, man.  I may need your help with Jared if he goes and
weirds out on us.  Please, Ricky...  We really need you... bad."

Ricky looked up, at Eric and nodded.  He'd do anything Eric said.  He
always had.

And now...  with the boys a safe distance away, the two of them left in
semi- privacy, Jared turned his attention...  to Tom...

"Tom...  Tom..."  he said mildly, his towering rage now smoldering like dry
ice, "You realize, of course, none of this is Ricky's fault.  You and
Dr. Vander- haeghe... I assume he's roasting in hell right now... You're
responsible.  You culti- vated these little abominations like animal
specimens in a petrii dish.  Then you raised them in this hothouse island
hell hole.  It wasn't enough that you bred these hideous freaks...  you
SODOMIZED them!!!  You programmed them with your degenerate pederastic
perversions...  Oh yeah, this was an island playground for you and the,
ah... late... `good doctor Van.,' All these years you two have been
corn-holin'' these cutsie muscle-punks.  What the hell kind of man ARE you?
Je- sus, Mary and Joseph...  If it took me bedding down with vulnerable,
impression- able youngsters like these, taking advantage of them to get a
nut...  I'd cut my fuckin' balls off!"

Until today, Tom, had never felt so much as a moment's twinge of misgiving
for how he'd raised these four lusty young super-lads.  A passionate,
lifelong atheist, he had always hated and rebelled against Bible-belt
religiosity.  His parents had been non-religious libertines... proto-flower
children from the beatnik generation of the 50's and very early 60's.
During his mid-teens, when he told them he was gay, there was not the
slightest opprobrium.  Only loving acceptance.  (For some reason, Tom's
folks had NOT assimilated the nihilism so common among 1950's beatniks.)
In his turn as a "parent," Tom had proven he could raise "his" boys in love
and discipline but with none of the archaic "thou-shalt nots" that rob
human beings of their "right" to the hedonistic pleasures of life.  If
that's what they felt like doing, it was nobody's business but theirs. But
gay though he was, Tom had NEVER... FORCED these boys into sex.  Physical
force with any of the four was, to be sure, so out of the question as to be
laughable.  And the boys were by nature and upbringing, not withstanding
their super-strength and raging lust, truly gentle souls.  They had
assimilated their values from Tom.  They could not be cruel.  And "forcing"
themselves on an unwilling victim would be so repugnant, so alien to any of
them that they could not conceive doing that to another human being.  "No,
(to sex) for now... maybe later" had always been honored among them with
cheerful, amiable, non-threatened acceptance.  After all, there was
certainly plenty of time for all the sex they wanted and, to be sure, more
to life than only that.  The mercy and heroism they had shown to Jared
during his capture and later, during his rescue high in the trees earlier
that day, proved the boys' essential goodness to anyone who cared to delve
into the facts.  What in God's name had gone wrong here tonight?  Why had
Ricky, to whom Jared owed his life at least twice over, and vice versa,
forced himself on this man?  Had Tom overlooked something in the boys'
upbringing?  Here was more than a simple glitch.  It went to the heart of
his own, deeply held convictions.  Tom had a moral horror of forced sex and
was heartsick that Ricky's coltish miscue of Jared's intentions had caused
such pain and hurt to both of them.  He tried to make Jared understand that
this was all a horrible mistake.  That this wasn't what it seemed to Jared.
It just COULDN'T be.  Here was a boy, full of life, love, exuberance and
even lust, but not a scintilla of the arrogance or wanton cruelty of... of
a rapist.  Ricky couldn't do that if his life depended on it.  He just
couldn't.  He only wanted to show his love for Jared, to feel it,
emotionally, spiritually and, horny young buck that he was, with physical,
boy-to-man passion.

Now Jared, choking with rage, croaked, "I may not have a fancy university
degree like you, Tom.  But I sure as hell know the difference between
unholy `lust' and `love.'  Typical...  that a deviant creep like you would
get them mixed up.  No wonder poor Ricky is so fucked in the head!  Jared's
emotional sluices were wide open now, tears of rage and anguish streaming
down his livid cheeks.  Tom, he said, trembling, barely in control of
himself, somebody needs to peel off your hide in ribbons, you arrogant
`cradle-robbing' son of a bitch!"

Tom reflected bitterly, at least Jared's rage was directed at him now, not
at Ricky.  But he knew, beyond that minimal consolation, it was all but
hopeless.  The storm of anguish, raging in Jared's head, could not be
stilled tonight, certainly not by him, badly as Tom wanted to stop the
searing pain that was racking his new friend's soul... and breaking his
beloved Ricky's heart in the bargain.  He sighed,

"Jared, no way we're going to settle this now.  I wish I could lift this
burden off your shoulders and give you... and Ricky... some peace.  You're
right, though.  This isn't about Ricky or even me.  Ricky was wrong in what
he did...  Dead wrong...  No excuse for it...  But this thing with Ricky
and what he did is not your problem...  Not really...  You can lie to
yourself if you want to, Jared but you don't fool me.  I know it's yourself
you're really angry with and for what?  If your pre- cious moral
convictions won't let you take this boy, and give yourself to him, for
God's sake, don't put Ricky... or yourself through this!  Ricky meant you
no harm and you know it.  You know all the boys are crazy about you.  Hell,
man, I think Ricky's fallen in love with you!  Jared, please.  I'm begging
you.  Just let this go...  Think, man!!!  You have NOT seduced this boy...
Ricky was the one who loved you first.  When we first found you, you were
wounded and helpless, Ricky was the first to reach out to you with a young
man's love: pure... UNCONDITIONAL love.  That wasn't lust, Jared, it was
just the simple love and compassion of a boy for a wounded, helpless
stranger...  with no assurance his love would ever be re- turned...  And he
didn't wait to see how we felt or what we wanted to do with you.  He just
came out and laid everything he had on the line for you, begging us to
spare your life.  Most kids Ricky's age are just trying with all their
might to fit in with their peers... scared shitless what all the other kids
think of them.  But that's just not where Ricky or these other boys are at.
Ricky loves the other boys and me with all his heart and soul.  But he
couldn't have cared less whether any of us though he was soft.  He pleaded
with us to have mercy on you.  That was the most singular act of moral
courage I've ever had the privilege to witness.  With all his muscle and
super-strength, sometimes it's hard for me to remember that Ricky's still
so young.  Maybe he is nothing but a 'fairy' to you, Jared, but even you
have to hand it to him: Ricky's got a heart as big as a house and he's got
the balls to wear it on his sleeve.  Right now, he's got a lot more courage
in that department than you do.  For all your physical bravado, Jared,
you're afraid to show your heart...  to be vulnerable... to risk everything
just for love of another human being.  I don't think you have it in you to
match Ricky's courage right now... not in this.  But I really hope you find
it someday.  I think you owe it to yourself...  and to Ricky."

Jared's head was reeling, his gut wrenched with warring emotions.  His
convic- tions and his heart collided like two colossal weather fronts and
his mind was blown by the resulting storm of shame and desire.  He wanted
so badly to hold onto Ricky and just banish all this pain and anguish for
ever.  He could hate him- self.  Indeed since he first suspected he might
be gay he'd despised himself.  Finding out that you're fruit was bad
enough, but, Jesus, making love with this kid!?  How in God's name had he
allowed himself to sink this low?  But, for the life of him, he just
couldn't muster the strength to hate Ricky... or Alex... or Jack...  or
Eric... or even, God help him, Tom!  Lord knows he'd just given it one
helluva go.  Jared folded at the waist and, sobbing uncontrollably,
crumpled to his knees, collapsing to one side in a mournful heap of abject
despair.  Through the years, the turbulence of inner conflict between
Jared's homo-erotic appetites and his rigid straight-laced moral beliefs
had made for a very rough ride indeed.  He had always been of two
incompatible minds, struggling in vain to reconcile the irrec- oncilable.
And now, all of a sudden, this hauntingly beautiful "chicken" had come home
to roost in his heart.  Jared cried out piteously to his God for
mercy... for this moral capitulation.  He no longer had the strength to
sustain his outrage.  He just couldn't hold onto it any more.  Tom knelt at
his side, tentatively placing his hand on Jared's shoulder.  Jared didn't
resist.

Eric and his three companions had slunk back within a few meters of Jared
and Tom.  They had been ready to interpose their bodies between the two men
should the need arise.  Now Eric motioned the boys to move in and, kneeling
alongside Tom, he gently placed a comforting, muscled arm around his waist,
leaning his head on Tom's shoulder.  Ricky laid on the ground alongside
Jared pressing in with his warm, steel-hard, beautifully muscled young
body.  Jared reached out to Ricky clutching him as tightly as a drowning
man grasping a life ring.  Locked in each others' arms they cried
themselves to sleep.  Tom, Eric and Alex returned to their own sleeping
places and young Jack resumed his mid-watch.  Except for rhythmic breathing
of this sleeping little band, all was quiet once more.

Next morning, when Ricky awoke, he found Jared already on his feet beside
him pulling on his camouflage shirt.  Ricky had watched Jared closely since
they'd first found him, wounded and helpless.  He was the opposite of the
boys who with their lifelong preference of bikini briefs were so
body-proud, even in their pre- teens, so unlike other youngsters that age.
Although he had a superb physique, Ja- red was very modest.  He would
rather swelter in that camouflage shirt than for- sake it for the relative
comfort of his sexy olive drab undershirt.  Ricky was mildly disappointed,
but not surprised.

Jared looked down at the boy, trying to act as though nothing had happened
be- tween them last night.  "Mornin'', kid.  Sleep OK?"

"Yeah, Jared, sure, like a baby.  About last night."

Jared's eyes glazed over.  He didn't look at Ricky.  He looked through him.
"It was all my fault, not yours.  It won't happen again."

Ricky was on his feet now, too.  "No, Jared.  No way it was your fault...
It was nobody's fault but mine.  I am so... sorry..."  His voice was
quavering now.  "I was so sure I knew what you wanted, what you needed.  It
was so wrong to force my- self on you just because I thought it was for
your own good.  I won't lie to you, Ja- red.  I love you.  I can't change
how I feel, but I promise I'll never do that again."

Jared was no good at all at this.  He replied tightly, "OK, Ricky.  There's
no rea- son for any of this to come up ever again.  Now get your camis and
boots on and go and round everybody up.  I have a plan."

With everybody seated on the ground in front of him Jared launched into his
"staff briefing."  It was fairly straightforward.  There would be a
takedown at the airstrip involving stealth, surprise, and violence.  They
would wait until that last surviving forger was on the ground, take out the
guards and disable the jet.  Then they would board the big Antonov
transport and fly it away to safety.  It would have to be a night action,
of course.  The sheer audacity of the plan, together with the boys'
extraordinary physical abilities gave them, if not a good chance, at least
something minimally better than no chance.  Unless they did something bold
and simple like this, it would only be a matter of time...

Part of the plan involved Tom's notebook PC and his sky-sat cell phone.
(These had been among the "loot" that Alex had retrieved from the house and
dumped into his tent bag along with the rope for Tom's tree harness, just
as Elias Wright's mercenaries - including Jared - were landing at Ponce de
Leon airstrip aboard the huge Antonov transport jet.)  They would use the
notebook PC-sat cell phone lashup to transmit an encrypted e-mail, signed
by Tom, addressed to Antonics corporate headquarters in Sunnyvale,
California, requesting that a company jet be dispatched to the airfield at
the huge former US Naval Air Station, Cubi Point at Subic Bay in the
Philippines.  This transmission would be intercepted by Wright and his
goons, but they would never get it decrypted in time.  The signal would
probably be triangulated, but by then, they would be long gone.  Jared
intended to use Eric and Alex to move to the transmission point and send
the message.  As fast as they could move, it was unlikely they would get
caught.  Once the message to Antonics was sent, they would sprint directly
to a second transmission point.  >From there, another encrypted message
would be transmitted, this one far longer than the first.  This message was
just lengthy random text with no intended ad- dressee.  It would be
addressed to Dr. Vanderheghe's electronic mail box.  The intent was to
broadcast this sustained signal as a diversion.  With Wright and his
henchmen focused here, hopefully, this would take some of the pressure off
Jared and his friends as they hit the airfield.  After several minutes,
Wright's mercenar- ies might figure out what was happening, but, hopefully,
a few minutes would be all they needed.  The second transmission would be
set to a four hour delay; plenty of time for Eric and Alex to get away,
rendezvous with their friends and set up for the takedown on the airfield.

Tom asked Jared whether he felt he could actually manage the big jet.  He
was, after all, a special operations fighter, not a professional aviator.
Jared assured Tom and the boys that the takeoff might be kind of "ugly" and
not completely by the book, but he was fairly sure he could get them into
the air and safely away.  He'd need some help in the cockpit though, and
the boys immediately volunteered Alex.  He'd know what to do.  Jared might
have expected Tom to sit alongside in the right seat, but he had come to
learn that if these boys said they could do something, he could probably
take it to the bank.  His copilot would be Alex.  He decided it would be
Jack who would sit in the center seat and manage the power settings as
flight engineer.  Tom, Eric and Ricky would be responsible to close and
secure all the crew access doors on the main deck before joining them above
on the flight deck.

Timing and luck would be critical.  It was a risk leaving Tom's PC and
sat-cell phone in a remote location with that delayed broadcast setting.
If things went wrong down at the airfield, they wouldn't get a second
chance to pull this scheme off and there'd no longer be any way to
communicate with the outside world.

Eric and Alex made their first transmission without a hitch.  They broke
down and prepared to shove off on the second leg of their mission, moving
swiftly, with grace and agility through the dense jungle to an isolated
beach on the western end of the island.  If they got lucky, Jared thought,
maybe Wright would surmise the sustained sat-tel broadcast was a
jury-rigged homing signal for rescuers arriving by zodiac boat to take them
off by sea.

When they arrived at west beach, they set up, logged on and downloaded the
reply from corporate home office.  Good news!  The company jet would be
standing by at the Cubi Point airfield.  The message was signed personally
by Nathan Wexler, Chief Operating Officer, Chief Financial Officer and
Dr. Vanderhaeghe's second in command at Antonics.  Wexler was a graduate of
the Chicago School of Eco- nomics who had turned his back on the "free
trade rubrics" of Adam Smith and Alan Greenspan.  He served his
"apprenticeship" on "the street" (Wall Street), where the order of the day
was asset-stripping, for fun and profit, gutting the in- dustrial base of
the nation, by legalized, systematic looting, turning workers and their
families out onto the street in droves.  All of this was done in the name
of "down sizing," "efficiencies," "competitiveness" and running "lean and
mean."  But in his heart, Wexler didn't like "mean."  His soul was dying.

Dr. Vanderhaeghe had rescued Wexler, affording him the opportunity to ply
his skills in service of a truly noble cause.  Wexler was a "certified
financial analyst," serving in the most sophisticated bio-engineering
research and development or- ganization on earth.  The company's advances
in biology and medical technology were among some of the most significant
in the field, ever.  Countless lives had been saved because of this work.
Until he'd met Dr. Vanderhaeghe, Wexler had feared he would be obliged to
choose between his vocation and his soul.  Now, thanks to Dr. Vanderhaeghe,
he was spared this awful choice.  Wexler brought to his stewardship of the
company's financial health and strength the same passion and single-minded
devotion that Tom had brought to his care for the boys.  He was a devout
Jew and family man who prayed, literally, hundreds of times a day.  If
asked about this, he would have answered "What kind of man cannot find at
LEAST one hundred reasons to thank his creator during the span of an entire
day?"  Every day, Wexler's first and last prayer was one of thanksgiving
for hav- ing been blessed and privileged to know and to serve
Dr. Vanderhaeghe.

He had been in the building when Elias Wright's bomb was discovered at
corpo- rate headquarters and had been well briefed by Dr. Vanderhaeghe
before he'd left Sunnyvale on his ill-fated mission to rejoin Tom and the
boys.  When contact was lost with Dr. Vanderhaeghe's aircraft and with Tom
and the four boys trapped on Ponce de Leon, Wexler had feared the worst.
There would not be time enough to assemble a fighting force to relieve Tom
and his charges.  By the time an effective force could get there, it would
all be over.  And Antonic's resources, vast as they were, could not hope to
compete with those of a sovereign government, even one as financially
destitute as the government of Mulvia-Everinia.  When he had re- ceived the
e-mail signed by Tom, Wexler dared hope for a miracle.  He would meet Tom
at the Cubi Point airfield, personally.  In accordance with Dr. Vander-
haeghe's final instructions before his departure, he would place the
resources of Antonics at Tom's disposal.  Wexler, as passionately loyal to
Vanderhaeghe as Tom, honoring the dying request of his friend, now
transferred his loyalties to Tom Henderson, Vanderhaeghe's designated
successor as Chief Executive Officer and now the supreme moral voice of
Antonics.

But first, Tom and the boys had to get off Ponce de Leon alive.  That was
up to Tom, the boys and, according to Tom's emergency e-mail, a "mercenary"
who had defected from Elias Wright's gang of pirates.  Wexler's
responsibility was to be in position at Cubi Point with that corporate jet.

Eric and Alex rejoined Tom, Jared and the other two boys at the edge of the
jun- gle on "Mount Arnold," overlooking the compound.  This was where they
had been when that first forger jet had come calling.  It was sundown now.
They would lie low here in the tall grass until midnight then move onto the
airfield to do their takedown and make good their escape.

The time went by painfully slowly.  They were worried that enemy patrols
might sweep past or that their enemy would get a sniff of them with an
infra red sensor or night vision goggles.  As luck would have it, none of
this happened.  As they prepared to move out, Jared repeated instructions
to the group, reviewing specific assignments with each individual.  He
repeated his warning that it was unlikely everyone would make it out alive.
One of the main objectives of this operation, however, was to ensure that
none of the boys, dead or alive, or even parts of their bodies should fall
into the hands or Wright and his fellow cut throats.  If the ge- netic
technology from Project Hercules fell into their hands, the consequences
for mankind would be disastrous.

Tom had been just fine up to this point, but now he was terrified for the
boys.  It was, he realized the most awful moment of his life.  If he lost
his own life, that he could handle, but he did not believe he could handle
the loss of any of his boys.  His eyes filled with tears which he made no
effort to control.  He gave himself freely to his anguish.  There was no
way he could hide the gravity of the situation from the boys and, given
that, he wouldn't have if he could.  It was imperative that they DO
understand and remember Jared's instructions.  Tom gathered the boys close
to him, embracing each of them in turn, speaking tender endearments to them
one at a time and finally as a group.  As Tom began, Jared started to move
away.  He felt it was appropriate to leave these people some time to
themselves before it was time to move out, but Ricky broke free from the
group and trotted over to Jared.  "No man You can't go off by yourself now.
Like it or not, you're one of us now.  You're a part of this and you belong
with us."  Jared was not nor- mally comfortable with public displays of
affection, but he allowed himself to be lead by Ricky back to rejoin the
group.  He hugged each of the boys in turn and even, Lord help him, Tom!

He could not hide the fact that these people who had been strangers only a
few days before had burrowed their way to a place deep in his heart where,
until now, only Augie had managed to find a place.  There was not the
physical passion as there had been with Augie, but a deep, loving bond had
been forged among these people.  Jared found himself wanting desperately to
introduce these people to Au- gie and his family.  He had come to think of
the Rodrigues as his own flesh and blood.  Notwithstanding his dire
prediction of inevitable casualties, he would bring every one of these
people safely home to meet them or he would give his life in the attempt.

They set out just after midnight.  As they moved onto the airfield, their
first ob- jective was the forger jet.  Several access panels had been
removed to accommo- date field maintenance.  This was an unexpected break
but it would still be neces- sary to further disable the jet.  Jared
guessed in its present state of disassembly, it would take about an hour to
get the forger back into the air.  By itself, that was not a good enough
margin of safety but it was a start.

Surprisingly, the discipline among the guards was extremely lax.  Jared
took out each of the men guarding the forger silently with a single slash
across throat with his serrated combat knife.  He motioned Eric up to the
aircraft and ordered him to pull out wires, couplings, and whatever else he
could to do maximum damage, as long as he worked quietly.  Eric tore
through wires, servo- mechanisms and alu- minum as easily as a child would
tear though toilet tissue.  No ordinary man could possibly do as much
damage so quickly.  Jared moved alongside to inspect the re- sults.  This
was just fine.  They were all set.  As an added measure, Jared reached into
the starboard engine inlet and concealed a small bolt behind one of the
tur- bine rotors near the front of the engine.  "Can't be too careful," he
explained to Eric as he winked.

And then they were off, trotting along the edge of the runway toward the
big An- tonov.  Tom and the other boys were waiting for them about half way
to their ob- jective.

As they approached the aircraft in the dark, it was clear the guards here
were even less vigilant than the men posted around the forger.  It had
never occurred to Wright or his mercs that their prey would have the
audacity to waltz onto the air- strip and try to make off with this huge
airplane.

This struck Jared as vaguely funny as he wryly recalled Gen. George
Patton's re- prise of Napolean's maxim: "L'audace!  L'audace!  Tout jours,
l'audace!"

Like the US Air Force C-5 which it so closely resembled, the AN-124 had
very special features which enhanced cargo handling.  The huge "visor" nose
was hinged at the top to the fuselage just beneath and aft of the cockpit.
The nose could be raised up and out of the way, giving load masters
unimpeded access through the front to the cavernous interior.  The aircraft
was fitted with a giant self-contained folding nose ramp.  Under the tail
was another giant loading ramp which lowered to give the same wide open
access aft.  In addition, the big Anto- nov could "kneel," lowering itself
on its undercarriage.  In this configuration, the big jet resembled a giant
tunnel with wings.

As Jared and his friends approached their objective, he noted with
disappointment that the aircraft was in cargo loading configuration, visor
nose full up, nose ramp extended, tail ramp down, the aircraft kneeling on
its undercarriage.  This was NOT so good.  No telling how long it would
take to get this bird ready to go.  Fifteen, twenty minutes, maybe?  There
would be regular radio checks between the guards and the main command post.
Jared would have to get close enough to listen in on their comm check
procedure, hoping he could match it well enough next time around to keep
from attracting the curiosity of the command post.

As it turned out, it was a simple comm-status check with no rotating
password or any other special consideration for security.  There were five
guards.  Jared dealt with four of them easily enough.  But, the fifth was
not a clean kill at the first knife blow.  The guard had tried to alert his
companions as he went down but by this time he was all alone.  There was no
one close enough to hear his scream.  Ja- red ordered everyone aboard the
aircraft, posting Tom, Eric and Ricky on the main deck, their weapons
ready, until he could get the big nose down and locked and the ramp tail
closed.  He, Alex and Jack clambered up the ladder to the flight deck.  The
"front office" of the AN-124 is easily one of the most complex in all of
aviation and Jared was no flying professional.  But, like Alex, he was an
avia- tion buff.  With his private flying experience and his military pinch
hitter training, he had some idea what to do.  He had actually received
some cockpit familiariza- tion in several transport aircraft, both fixed
and rotary wing, of both US and for- eign manufacture; including the US Air
Force C-5.  There was a strong family re- semblance here.  He would need
power in the cockpit to close the nose and tail and run through his
pre-engine start checklist.  He lit off the internal auxiliary power unit
(APU), a small gas turbine engine, nestled in the tail cone, used to run
the generators providing electric power until the main engines were
running.  The APU was quite small but very powerful and Jared was afraid
the noise might at- tract unwelcome attention, but he had no choice.  He
brought the APU on line and the instrument panel lights flickered on.  He
ordered Jack to call down to the main deck that nose and tail were coming
closed and that Tom, Eric and Ricky should stand clear.  Jared would have
preferred using head phones through the internal communication system, but
he didn't want to take the time to search for headsets and get everyone
used to using them.  For now, Jack would have to do as his mes- senger to
the main deck.  Once the instrument panel indicated the doors were closed
and locked, Jared set to work on the undercarriage.  He found the control
selector easily enough and moved it to "full extend."  The huge bird slowly
came up off its "knees."

Jared ordered Jack to return to the main deck for visual verification that
the nose and tail were closed and appeared securely locked.  Also, all the
access doors on either side needed to be secured and he wanted to make sure
there was no heavy cargo or anything else sitting loose on the main deck.
He cursed himself for not thinking of this before he had closed the nose
and tail, but maybe he'd be lucky and there wouldn't be anything to worry
about.  When Jack returned to the flight deck.  It was all good news, all
doors secure and no loose cargo on the main deck except a couple of loose
tie-down chains and those were now secure.  During the interval, Jared had
led Alex through a quick cockpit familiarization.  Actually, they were
learning the layout together.  Notwithstanding his "fam-time" in the C- 5,
Jared had never before in his life actually sat in the AN-124 cockpit.
They would have to "wing it."  They were as ready as they'd ever be.  Jared
ordered Jack down to the main deck one more time to call Tom Eric and Ricky
up to the flight deck.

Less than a minute later, Jared and Alex were joined by Jack, Ricky, Eric
and Tom.  Jared ordered Jack into the center seat, between pilot and
copilot, directly behind the throttle quadrant and began to staccato a
torrent of instructions.

"Keep your eyes on the power gages and your hands on the throttles.  I'll
have the computer engaged, so all you should have to do is follow through.
But if the nee- dles drift off my power calls, override and keep the
needles on my numbers.  If Alex or I reach for the throttles, take your
hands off, get outta the way and stand by to move back in when we tell you.
Questions?"

"No?

"OK.  Rest of you guys find a seat and strap in.  We're outta here like a
pack of tall dogs!"

As he had done his takedown, he had snatched the walkie-talkie from one of
the guards.  It crackled to life with a radio check.  "Loud and clear, how
me?" Jared responded.  The walkie talkie crackled, "I read you same,
out..."  As Jared and his friends had hidden in the tall grass, beyond the
edge of the runway, he had lis- tened to the radio check.  He observed that
these came at about ten minute inter- vals.  The radio man with these
guards had referred to himself as "post five."  "Roger.  Post five out."
The command post seemed to be satisfied.  Jared and Alex went back to work

Jared and Alex stumbled as best they could through the laminated
pre-takeoff cockpit checklist.  It was in Russian.  By hook and crook, they
made it.  Both had a fairly good sense of the cockpit.  Alex because of
hours prowling the web and pouring over books Dr. Vanderhaeghe brought him,
as well as his "hot-seat" time in Antonics corporate jets; Jared because of
his private flying experience and his pinch hitter cockpit training in the
military.  Jared was impressed and delighted with Alex's instincts in the
cockpit.  He spoke in frank admiration:

"Alex, you're a natural, boy!  I think I've discovered a fine future
aviator here."

Like the other boys, over the past couple days, Alex had come to worship
Jared as a hero and as their savior.  He beamed with pleasure at this
unbridled praise.

One by one, they got the engines on-line and spooled up to idle.  Now they
were ready to go.  Jared ordered Alex to keep a sharp lookout to starboard
for obstruc- tions or enemy mercs who might try to take potshots at them as
they taxied into position on the runway.  Jared advanced the throttles to
overcome massive sta- tionary inertia.  The aircraft didn't move.  Brakes
were off...  What in the hell was wrong now?

Jeeeezzzz!!!  The wheel chocks!

Jared couldn't BELIEVE he'd been so stupid!

He could advance the throttles and over run the chocks, and who knew, maybe
blow a tire? foul the undercarriage?  He preferred not to take that chance.
He needed someone to circle the aircraft and yank the chocks.  He was
furious with himself that his idiotic oversight might queer this whole
escape.

He set the brake, told Alex and Jack to stay in their seats.

As he dove through the hatch, he snagged his AK-74 and called over his
shoulder, Tom, Eric, Ricky, grab your weapons and come with me...

When they got to the main deck, Jared found a position just forward of the
wheel sponsons, which protruded slightly inside the expansive interior
where there were two exit doors directly opposite one another.  He posted
Tom and Eric to star- board with Ricky and himself at the port door.  On
Jared's signal, both doors would be swung open.  Jared and Tom would cover
with their weapons as the boys leapt out onto the tarmac and pulled chocks
from the main mounts and then scrambled forward to the twin side-by-side
steerable nose wheels to pull the chocks from there.  With the roar from
the idling engines, it would be almost im- possible to communicate
effectively with one other once the doors came open, so they just had to
hope this went off OK.

Everything went without a hitch on Eric's side.  He pulled the chock from
the starboard main mount, sprinted forward and pulled the starboard nose
wheel chock and was back on board in less than thirty seconds.

Ricky was not so lucky.  He pulled the port main mount chock OK and managed
to run forward and yank the port nose wheel chock as well.  But about
halfway back to the port access door, some shots came from the tall grass
at the edge of the runway and Rick was hit.  Jared sprayed the area where
the muzzle flashes had come from and the enemy shooting stopped.  He
screamed in anguish, "Riii- ickyyyy!!!"  Without hesitation, Jared was out
the door, landing on the parking apron at a dead run.  He found Ricky
sprawled in a heap his head "haloed" by a growing pool of blood.  Jared
scooped up the wounded boy and dashed back to the port door.  By this time,
Eric and Tom had emerged from the port aircraft crew door and were
"spraying" their weapons into the tall grass with suppressing fire.  Firing
from the enemy was sporadic, but they managed to nick Jared with two
grazing shots.  He didn't even feel them, he was in such an adrenaline
rush.  He dove through the door and landed on the main deck with Ricky in
his arms.  Eric and Tom climbed aboard in turn and continued firing their
weapons through the open door.

Jared turned to Eric.  "Keep shooting until we start moving.  Then close
her up.  Make sure you dog the hatch secure.  Recheck the starboard door,
too."

"Tom, Ricky's in your hands.  Please, God, let him be OK."

There was no more time for emotion or to delve into Ricky's condition.  He
had to get them out of there fast.

Back on the flight deck, he clambered into his seat and ordered Jack to
advance the throttles.  The huge jumbo jet lumbered forward.  Then Jared
tapped the toe brakes to test response.  They grabbed.  "All systems good
to go."

As the big Antonov waddled into takeoff position at the northwest end of
the runway, there was sporadic small arms from the edge of the airstrip but
it was in- effective.  Jared brought the jet to a full stop, ordered Jack
to advance throttles to full takeoff power and Alex to extend flaps to 50
percent, leading edge slats 100 percent.  Once the engines had spooled up
to take off rpm, Jared released the brakes and they began to roll, slowly
at first but soon with acceleration gently pushing them back in their
seats.  Alex called off air speed.  "V-1... V-2... rotate."

Jared pulled back on the yoke and the nose came off the tarmac, followed
seconds later by the main mounts.  They were airborne, roaring over the
compound be- yond the southeast end of the runway.  They saw muzzle flashes
from the ground but they did no harm.  Within seconds they were over the
sea.  Jared opted to re- main at low altitude.  He had not thought the
invading force had come equipped with shoulder launched stinger or strella
heat seeking missiles, but he could not be sure.  He had not been briefed
on everything they had in their arsenal.  He had not known, for instance,
about the three forger jets until arriving on Ponce de Leon island.

They were lucky and as Ponce de Leon receded in the distance, Jared
retracted the undercarriage, leading edge slats and flaps, eased the nose
into a climb, pro- grammed the auto pilot to ascend and maintain flight
level two-one-zero (ap- proximately 21,000 feet above mean sea level) and
set the altimeter to 29.92 inches of mercury, the standard altimeter
setting around the world for high- altitude aviation (aircraft flying at or
above 18,000 feet MSL).  As a former War- saw Pact aircraft, where "metric"
was the standard, and as an aircraft that flew all over the world, the
AN-124 cockpit gages were graduated both to English and metric standards,
airspeed in both knots and kilometers and altitude both in feet and meters.
For this flight, Jared directed his fellow crewmen, Alex and Jack, al- ways
to refer to the English graduations, not the metric.

Now that the aircraft had been established in a steady climb on an easterly
head- ing for the Philippines, Jared turned to Alex.  "Take over copilot.
Jack, I want you in the left seat till I get back.  Do whatever Alex tells
you."

"Yes sir," was Jack's enthusiastic response.

"Boys I'm gonna go below and check on status down there."  Neither of them
knew about Ricky getting hit and until Jared knew more, there was no point
in their sharing his anguish.  He wanted all their attention focused in the
cockpit.  Hell, this whole thing was crazy in the first place.  Jared was
not a professional aviator himself and now he was leaving one of the
largest aircraft in the world in the hands of a couple of kids!  He knew he
belonged in the cockpit, but things were under control on the flight deck
and he could not ignore the call of his heart a minute longer.  He
sauntered out of the cockpit trying to appear to Alex and Jack as
nonchalant as he could.  As soon as he was out the door, he dove for the
ladder and slid on the hand rails down to the main deck.  Ricky was seated
cross legged on deck with Tom and Eric kneeling alongside, just finishing
their mend- ing of the wound: nine stitches!  The enemy bullet had grazed
the scalp.  That ac- counted for all the blood on the ground!  But he was
going to be OK.  When Ricky saw Jared sliding down the ladder hand rails
toward him, he flashed a heart-stopping grin that melted the man's heart.
When Jared landed on the main deck he was on Ricky like a duck on a June
bug, hugging him with joy and relief.  Ricky was still a little woozy, but
he was relieved as well.  More important for him, getting hit had almost
been worth it if it would get Jared to show him this much attention and
affection.  Except for that "group hug" on Mount Arnold just before
starting this escape operation, Jared had not touched Ricky since they had
slept in each others arms last night after the horrible blowup when he had
tried to entice this man into making love to him.  Jared was fairly
undemonstrative any- way and after last night, he had seemed super
paranoid, not to mention they had been fighting for their lives, having
little opportunity for anything else!  Ricky reveled in Jared's uninhibited
embrace.  He knew well enough to savor this mo- ment now.  This would not
happen every day.

Ricky decided to push just a little.  "Jared, I love you."

For once, the man didn't freeze up and go all geeky on him.  He gave the
boy an- other squeeze and held him by the shoulders at arms length.

"Ricky, honest to God.  I love you, too.  I'll never, ever do anything to
hurt you.  You know that, don't you, kid?"

"Sure, Jared.  You bet I do.  I owe you my life!"

"And I owe you mine, Ricky, and I'll never forget it."

Jared turned to Eric.  "Good work out there, son.  It was real brave of the
two of you to scamper out there and pull the chocks."

"Aw, Jared, it was nothin'.  Wish it had been me, not Ricky, on the port
nose wheel."

"Luck of the draw, Kid.  Maybe next time."

Then he turned to Tom.  "Once you get Ricky all cleaned up, y'all come on
up topside."  I need you to get on the horn with your company and verify
that their jet will be on the ground by the time we arrive.  If not, I want
to stand well off Cubi Point and loiter till they get there.  Once we get
word your jet is on the ground, we'll shoot a straight in approach into
Cubi, taxi alongside the company jet and make good our personnel transfer."

Then Jared mounted the stairs and returned to the flight deck, resuming his
posi- tion in the command pilot seat.  Alex and Jack had established the
aircraft straight and level at flight level two-one-zero on an easterly
heading for Cubi Point.

"Shit hot, you two!  I know a couple of hot stick "airdales" when I see
`em.

Now it was Jack's turn to join Alex reveling in their hero's high praise.
The two of them flashed a pair of wide mouth all-boy grins that made for a
serious case of sensory overload!  At that moment, for the first time in
his life, Jared felt a stab of pain that he would never have sons of his
own.  His moment below with Ricky and now this: He had to look away as his
eyes welled.  Very soon now, Tom and these boys would be swept out his life
as suddenly as they'd come into it, probably for ever as he and they went
their separate ways.

But now he still had work to do and so did Tom.  Tom, Ricky and Eric
entered the cockpit.  Eric tired to "mother hen" Ricky into a seat but he
wasn't having any of it.

"I'm OK now, Eric.  Honest.  Stop treating me like a baby."

Making no effort to hide his relief, Eric grinned at Tom, "I think Rick's
just about his old self again."

Jared had rigged headsets for Alex, Jack and himself and tuned to the radio
fre- quency of the Manila oceanic flight information region (FIR).  He
turned to Tom and told him to rummage through the cockpit to locate another
headset.  When Tom found it, Jared directed him to take a seat and plug in.
Then he keyed the internal communication systems (ICS).

"Tom, you hear this OK?"

"Sure, Jared.  I hear you just fine."

"OK, Tom.  Here's the deal.  I'm going to report in to Manila FIR in about
half an hour.  Wexler's encrypted reply to our sat-cell signal back on
Ponce de Leon gave a recognition call sign we're to pass along to the FIR
controllers.  They're sup- posed to be ready to rig a semi-secure patch
straight through to Wexler.  Once I get him on the horn, you two can make
whatever arrangements you need to.  Two things I want you to remember:
Don't discuss anything over this comm link about the ultimate destination
of your corporate jet, but make damn sure Wexler under- stands we need
confirmation that his jet is on the ground, parked and secured be- fore we
arrive at our initial approach fix into Cubi."

"OK, Jared. I got it.  No talk about where we're headed out of Cubi and the
com- pany jet is on the ground before we start our approach."

"That's it, Tom.  The rest is up to y'all.  One more thing.  Keep your
comms to a minimum.  No unnecessary chit chat.  Anything that can wait
until you're in the air on your company jet, hold off till then."

Tom put his left hand on Jared's right shoulder and gave him a silent quick
"dou- ble-squeeze."  In aviation, a quick "double-click "on the radio mike
button signi- fies acknowledgment in the affirmative.  A lot of
understanding passed between these two men with Tom's brief gesture.

Jared raised Manila FIR on the radio and received the patch through to
Wexler without difficulty.  Tom and Wexler communicated effectively but not
effusively.  They handled their business, signed off and the connection was
terminated.  There would be time enough for more words later.  The
corporate jet was less than thirty minutes from landing at Cubi.  The
company had arranged for an armed guard of the Philippine constabulary.  No
one would be allowed near the parked aircraft.

About forty-five minutes later, Jared received confirmation from Manila FIR
that the jet was parked and secured.  He was instructed to switch to the
Cubi radar ap- proach control frequency.  Upon reporting in to Cubi radar
approach control, he was cleared direct to the initial approach fix.  Jared
adjusted his course slightly to the north and waited for the aircraft to
steady up.  Then he turned to Alex and Jack.

"How would you boys like to bring `er in?"

Alex couldn't believe his ears and to be sure, neither could Tom.  But
Jared cut Tom short.

"Look.  This kid knows as much about flying this aircraft as I do.  Hell,
we're all greenhorns in this thing.  But these two lads deserve the honor
of bringin' this baby home as well as anybody.  I'll be right here.  Just
remember, Alex FEATHER touch on the controls.  This is a game of `finesse,'
not strength.  Do NOT `ham fist' this aircraft!"

Alex was overwhelmed.  He couldn't speak.  Hot tears of joy ran down his
livid cheeks.  This was, precisely, the happiest moment of his life.
Slowly, solemnly, with as much dignity as he could muster, he eased out of
the right seat and into the command pilot seat that Jared had vacated for
him.  Alex was grateful for Ja- red's insistence back on Ponce de Leon that
they wear the camouflage uniforms and boots.  This would have looked a
little "geeky" were he barefoot and clad in nothing more than his bikini
briefs.  Jack eased into the copilot's seat and Jared assumed Jack's
position as flight-engineer/throttle jock.  Jared did the pre-landing
brief.

"OK guys, this will be a standard instrument arrival into Cubi Point with
ground control precision radar assisted approach to touchdown and full
stop.  As soon as we're cleared we'll begin our initial descent from flight
level two-one-zero to ini- tial approach fix altitude of one-six-thousand
feet.  Aircraft is on direct course to initial approach fix.  Expect
clearance to initiate en-route descent in about ten minutes."

"Alex, you're command pilot.  As long as everything goes smoothly, you're
in charge and you're responsible.  Jack, you're number two.  I'm wearing
two hats.  I'm flight engineer and flight instructor.  If Command or
copilot goes for the throttles, I'm hands off till one of you gives me the
word to take them back.  But if things go haywire, I have the option to go
for whichever seat I choose, pilot or co- pilot, and you two agree right
now there's no question, no discussion.  Whose ever seat I want, left or
right, you're out and its mine.  Guy I relieve takes the flight en-
gineer's seat.  Understood?"

Both boys, accustomed all their lives to Tom's strict but loving discipline
an- swered with sharp, parade-ground precision, "Yes sir!"

"And one more thing, aircrew, normally Command-Pilot or `Co-' handles the
comms.  But this evening it'll be me."

Alex spoke for both boys, out of deference for Jared's service background,
using navy parlance this time, "Aye Aye Sir!"

When Jared had first reported in, Manila FIR had assigned the aircraft the
call sign "Maytag One Two Four."  They retained this designation with Cubi
approach control.  They were receiving initial instructions now.

"Maytag One Two Four, cleared en-route descent to initial approach
altitude, maintain current heading direct initial approach fix.  Squawk
three-zero-zero zero.  Report arrival, over."

Alex ordered Jack to select code "3000" on the transponder control
panel. Jack punched in the numbers and moved the selector dial from
"standby" to "on."

Jared responded, "Cubi approach, Maytag One Two Four wilco, what is your
al- timeter setting, over."

"Maytag One Two Four, roger, radar contact, altimeter setting currently two
niner six niner."

"Roger Cubi approach, adjusting altimeter to two niner six niner."

Ten minutes later, Jared keyed his mike again.  "Cubi approach, Maytag One
Two Four, initial approach fix, level at one-six-thousand feet."

"Roger Maytag, Cubi Approach, come right to course one three five, final
ap- proach heading, descend and maintain one-zero-thousand feet report when
fifteen miles out."

"Cubi approach, Maytag One Two Four, leavening one-six-thousand for
one-zero- thousand, turning to heading one three five, magnetic."

Jared directed Alex to commence his pre-landing checklist.  For half a
beat, Alex hesitated.  Once again he was overcome with emotion.  He had
been through this part once before as he observed this very aircraft making
its final approach into Ponce de Leon airfield.  As he had watched while
dashing across the lawn from the house with his tent bag full of loot, Alex
had never dreamed that, within days, he would be landing this very
aircraft, their "one-way ticket to freedom" as com- mand pilot here at Cubi
Point.  He regained control of himself and, together with Jack, under
Jared's watchful eye, executed a pre-landing check which would have done
credit to any experienced aviator.  Jared luxuriated in the cool
"profession- alism" of these two boys.  On the surface, he was cool, but
inside, he was every bit as excited as they were.  Ricky and Eric had been
standing behind Jack and Alex, flanking Jared in the flight engineer's seat
between and slightly aft of the pilot and copilot.  The two boys steadied
themselves Ricky with one hand on the back of Alex's seat and Eric one hand
on the back of Jack's, both of them with their other hand on Jared's
shoulders.

Tom was watching all this from his seat at the rear of the large cockpit.
He was a little taken aback at the bonding that was going on between Jared
and the boys.  He thought to himself that he ought to be jealous but he
wasn't.  Not one little bit.  Here was Jared giving them something that Tom
simply couldn't.  Of course, Ja- red could never take Tom's place in their
lives.  But he was obviously carving a niche of his own.  Or maybe, Tom
thought in a flash of inspiration... maybe Jared HAS taken my place and
maybe I've taken Doc Vanderhaeghe's.  It would be in- teresting to see how
this played out.  A lot would depend on Jared, of course.  Right now, Tom
felt a very odd sort of bonding of his own with Jared.  All very innocent
and Platonic, of course, because it was about the boys, not the two of
them, per se.  He found himself half wondering how Jared would feel about
that.

Jared spoke again.  "Cubi approach, Maytag One Two Four, fifteen miles,
altitude one-zero thousand, heading one three five."

"Roger Maytag One Two Four, this will be a precision radar approach,
contact fi- nal controller frequency one two six decimal three five."

"Cubi approach, Maytag One Two Four, changing to frequency one two six
deci- mal three five.  Real good service.  So long."

Alex turned to Jared.  "Boss, I got visual on the runway lights and
approach threshold directional strobes, dead ahead.  Our lineup is good."

"OK, Cap, good work.  Steady as you go."

"Cubi precision approach, Maytag One Two Four..."

"Maytag heavy, Cubi precision approach, this is your final controller.  How
copy over?"

"Cubi, Maytag heavy, loud and clear, wheels down and locked, airfield in
sight."

"Maytag heavy, no further reply requested or desired.  There will be a
thirty sec- ond comm interruption for your questions or emergency
commencing one mile from touchdown."

"Maytag heavy now on course, on glide slope, five miles from touchdown."

"Maytag heavy, three miles from touchdown, slightly low, slightly left,
correct- ing."

"Maytag heavy, one mile from touchdown, on course, on glide slope, commenc-
ing thirty second comm break now."

"Maytag heavy over runway threshold, cleared to land.  Contact Cubi tower
one two three decimal six, good evening sir."

"Roger Cubi precision approach, switching.  Real fine service."

"Cubi tower, Maytag heavy on deck."

"Roger Maytag heavy, there is a `follow-me' truck standing by at taxi-way
"echo."  Continue landing roll-out to last runway exit right."

"Roger, Cubi tower and roger the `follow-me.'  We have him visual."

"Maytag heavy, contact Cubi ground control when you've cleared the duty
run- way."

"Wilco Cubi tower.  So long."

Alex steered the giant Antonov through the maze of taxi-ways behind the
"follow- me" guide truck and parked alongside the waiting Antonics
corporate jet.  He could see Wexler pacing the tarmac impatiently by the
biz-jet air stair.  He pointed Wexler out to Jared.

Jared shut down the four Lotarev turbofans.  The silence that followed was
palpa- ble.  They had made it!

Tom exhaled a sigh of relief.  It was the first time he'd felt truly
relaxed since re- ceiving the e-mail from Dr. Vanderhaeghe the morning of
Wright's assault on the island, so long ago it seemed now.  Somehow, this
little band of men and boys had pulled each other through alive.  Confirmed
atheist though he was, he allowed himself the brief luxury of thanking the
God of his distant forebears, this God he had never known or acknowledged,
for their deliverance and, especially for the providence that had steered
Jared, this strange warrior, into their lives.

Alex and Jack were unbuckling.  Jared was already on his feet, manfully
"endur- ing" the relieved, affectionate hugs of Eric and Ricky.  Then Alex
and Jack mus- cled in.  Jared had never been much of a "group hug" kind of
guy, but at this mo- ment, he had no say-so in the matter.  He was cacooned
by all four boys in a Her- culean embrace of loving boy-strength.

And then the four super-boys turned their mighty affections on Tom.,
unrestrained tears of joy and relief streaming from their eyes.

The cockpit celebration came to an end quickly enough. Company employees
were striding across the tarmac toward the big Antonov.  Jared lead the way
down to the main deck and over to the port crew access door just forward
the port wheel well sponson.  As he opened the door, a company employee
entered with a suit- case packed with fresh clothing for everyone, the four
boys, Tom and Jared.

"Tom," Jared said.  "Congratulations.  Looks like y'all have made it out
OK.  I am so... sorry for my part in bringing this nightmare to your door.
I hope some of what I've done the last few days makes us quits."

"What do you mean, Jared?  We're not quits.  Not by a long shot.  What do
you mean quits?  You're coming HOME with us!"

"Look, Tom.  You don't owe me anything.  I came to that island to kidnap
you and kill and those boys for money.  There's nothing that can ever
change that.  Nothing."  Jared looked down at the deck.

"Jared, if you'd really come to kill us, you'd have shot us when we first
found you instead of sticking your pistol in your mouth.  If you were a
murderer, you'd never have gone into that mortar impact zone to pull out
your own guys, even when you knew they'd only be shot once you got them
clear.  You're a good man, Jared.  I don't know what it was that made you
fall in with those cut throats, but like I said to you before, I'll bet my
life there's a story in there somewhere.  I hope someday you'll share it
with me, and with the boys if you can ever bring yourself to open up to us
that much."

Tom could see the man's hesitation.  Jared was at the end of his emotional
tether and Tom could see he was on the verge of loosing it.  He decided now
was not the time for gentle persuasion so he decided to push things over
the edge.

"Look, Jared, you said it yourself.  We're still in danger here.  We have
to leave now.  I just don't have the time now to convince you.  Now you're
coming with us.  If Elias Wright or his goons find you, your life isn't
worth a plug nickel.  With no plane to get them out till a replacement
arrives, they'll have plenty of time to comb the island for clues to who
helped us escape.  You're already missing...  have been for a several days.
When they don't find your body, they'll know it was you.  Outside Antonics,
you don't stand a chance.  You're one of us now, like it or not."

Jared didn't seem to Tom to be listening.  "Tell `ya what, Jared, you got
two choices and staying here's not one of `em.  Either you walk across the
tarmac and get on that jet with me or all I have to do is say the word.
Ricky or any one of these boys'll just hoist you under his arm like a sack
of potatoes.  Won't be any- thing you can do about it.  Not sure what
that'll do for your dignity, but the boys and I'll worry about your bruised
ego later.  Right now it's your ass we're con- cerned about."

The four boys were NOT smiling now.  From the determined looks on their
faces, there was no doubt in Jared's "military mind" that they were lined
up behind Tom "four-square" on this.  They had no intention whatever of
permitting him to re- main behind.  He could go with them peacefully or
otherwise, but, one way or the other, he WOULD be going with them.

After they'd all donned their fresh clothing, Jared marched across the
tarmac be- hind Tom like a puppy, flanked on either side by Ricky and Eric,
their powerful muscles hidden discreetly under loose fitting street
clothes; but ready to take Jared down if he should do something really
stupid like make a break for it.  Jared, they all knew now, was something
of a non-stop walking "guilt trip" and might well be good for that
self-destructive sort of thing.  Jack and Alex brought up the rear, ready
to do their part to rescue this man from himself, yet again, should the
need arise.

They needn't have worried.  Just like with Ricky in the trees, Jared had
decided to "go with the flow."  He couldn't admit it to himself... at least
not yet.  But deep in his soul, he was overjoyed to belong to this
magnificent company... to be wanted and loved by them.

As the company jet lifted off the runway at Cubi Point into the
southwestern Pa- cific dawn.  The pilot laid in a northeasterly course on
the flight computer for an intermediate fueling stop in Hawaii...  their
ultimate destination, corporate home office in Sunnyvale, California.

The cabin crew made everyone comfortable, served an in flight meal and then
Ja- red and the boys stretched out and went to sleep.  Wexler and Tom
conferred at the rear of the aircraft.  Wexler laid out a copy of
Dr. Vanderhaeghe's Last Will and Testament, leaving his entire estate to a
charitable trust to be known as the "Antonics Trust."  Tom Henderson was
appointed sole trustee for life and as such, ex-officio Chief Executive
Officer of Antonics, Inc.  Wexler would continue as President and chief
operating officer.  Tom, of course, was no more capable than
Dr. Vanderhaeghe had been of running day-to-day operations of a
multi-billion dollar corporation.  This was Wexler's forte.  But Tom would
supply the guidance and the vision.  Vanderhaeghe had left some
suggestions, but nothing of a bind- ing nature.  He had trusted Tom with
his boys and he had loved Tom and trusted his judgment and good faith to
discern the best opportunities to serve the cause of the higher good of
humanity.  Tom was beginning to get the kernel of an idea.

By the time the jet landed at the corporate airfield near Sunnyvale, he had
a much clearer idea of what he wanted to do, but he wanted to use Jared and
Wexler as sounding boards.  Right now he was dog tired.  He hadn't gotten
much sleep on the plane.  He desperately wanted to crash for about
twenty-four hours and then he could deal with this.  They would be billeted
at the company hostel on the "cam- pus" of Antonics world headquarters
where the home office and numerous lab fa- cilities were situated.  This
would be a safe, secure sanctuary, out of the reach of Wright and his
henchmen.  Since the bomb scare, company security had been stepped up and
there was little chance of any such recurrence.

As they were preparing to retire, Jared took Tom aside.

"Tom, I'm not going to do anything stupid, I swear.  But there's someone I
have to go see and I have to leave now.  This is important... very
important to me."

"Jared, I'm dog tired right now.  I'm so tired I can't think straight.
I've come to love you like I love these boys.  We owe you our lives, but
I'm really scared of what's going on inside your head.  I'd never forgive
myself if something happened to you and, worse, the boys'd never forgive
me.  Please, God, can't this wait until I've had some sleep.  I'd rather
twenty-four but for you, I just really need a good twelve hours and then we
can talk.  If this is legit, I promise, I'll help you do whatever you have
to do.  I've got the full faith and credit of a multi-billion dollar
corporation behind me to make good on that promise."

"OK, Tom, but since I'm still in your `protective custody,' I'm entitled to
one phone call."

"Sure Jared, as long as you don't mind if Ricky listens in."

"Not the way I'd have preferred it, but I guess it'll have to do."

With Ricky sitting next to him in his room, using a speaker phone, Jared
placed a call to the Rodrigues home in East Los Angeles.  SRA. Rodrigues
answered the phone.  "How is Augie?" Jared asked.  "Oh, Jared, thank God.
We were all so worried.  Where are you?"

Ricky placed his index finger vertically against his lips but he needn't
have wor- ried.  Jared was hypersensitive to security, especially over the
telephone, espe- cially now.  He was taking a chance with the Rodrigues
family just calling them from here, but not all that much of a chance.
This would have to be a short con- versation.

"SRA. Rodrigues, look, I can't stay on the line too long.  I'm OK and I'll
be home soon.  Very soon.  I just need to know how Augie is doing."

"Jared, he's not doing too good.  I hope you can make it home.  I don't
think he's got too much longer."

Jared choked, then bit his fist, drawing blood.  "I love you `madre mia.'
I promise I'll come right home.  Tell Dr. Rodrigues, the kids and Augie
that I love them and that I'm coming home."

"OK, Jared.  We love you too.  We'll see you when you get here."

"So long, SRA. Rodrigues.  See you soon."  And then Jared rung off.

He put his head down on the table and cried for his beloved Augie.  More
than he'd ever cried in all his life, his body racked with violent sobs of
unbearable grief.  Maybe under different circumstances he'd have held back
because of Ricky, but this boy had already seen more emotional display from
Jared than most people who had known him all his life, including his
parents.  He couldn't hide his feel- ings from Ricky anyway so why even
try?  Ricky gently stroked Jared's hair, cry- ing with his friend.  He
didn't know all the details but he knew someone Jared cared for very deeply
was dying and that was all he needed to know.

"Let it come, Jared," Ricky said. "Just let it all out."

Ricky was not religious.  There was no way he could have been.  Tom and Dr.
Vanderhaeghe both had a visceral hatred of organized religion, equating all
relig- ion with Bible-belt homophobia, racism and narrow-mindedness.  They
had sys- tematically shielded the boys as best they could from the
"poisoning influence" of organized religion.

Despite Jared's homophilia, his flat refusal to have anything sexually to
do with Ricky was clearly based upon religious-moral compunction, not upon
any lack of sexual attraction per se to Ricky.  He had come to understand
that Jared was a good and decent man in spite of his "moral hang-ups."
Privately, in his mind, Ricky addressed an appeal to Jared's God (he would
not have thought of this as "prayer").  If this God were real, if there
were anything good or gentle in his na- ture at all, Ricky beseeched Him to
find a way to spare the life of this dying man Jared cared for so deeply.
Then he helped maneuver Jared to bed and curled up on the floor alongside
his friend and went to sleep.

The next morning, Ricky made sure he was up before Jared.  He went to Tom
and filled him in on what he knew about Jared's friend.  Of course Tom
would see the Rodrigues that very day.  He would be flown in a company jet
down to LA, under protective guard, of course.  His approach to the
Rodrigues would be very circum- spect, to avoid even the remotest
possibility that any of Elias Wright's spies could make any connection
whatever between Antonics and Augie's family.  Ricky would also go along.

Before they left the building for the ride to the company airfield, Tom had
every- body sit down together for a light breakfast.  Nathan Wexler in his
de rigeur blue suit with button down collar and regimental tie was there.
Tom spoke.

"Jared, boys...  on the flight back home, Nathan and I have had some brief
discus- sions about the direction of the corporation and of project
Hercules.  But before we go any further, we will want to bring you guys
into the loop.  After Jared and Ricky return from LA, we'll all sit down in
earnest to start hammering things out.  Right now, Jared you go on down to
LA and take as much time as you need.  But when you're done we'll expect
you to come on back up here.  And don't take any stupid chances.  We really
don't know what Wright and his cronies in Mulvia- Everinia are up to.
Remember its not just you now.  Ricky'll be with you and you have to think
of the Rodrigues' safety as well."

"OK, Tom.  I'll behave.  And once I'm done down there, Ricky and I will
come straight home.  Honest."

Tom flashed Jared one of those charming grins like the ones that had made
FDR so famous.  It said very clearly, with no words required, "I'm counting
on that, Ja- red and I'm expecting you to be as good as your word."

He spoke aloud, "You two have a safe trip."

And then they got up to go.

Jared and Rick spoke very little on the flight down to LA.  Rick insisted
on hold- ing Jared's hand as they sat on the plush sofa bench at the rear
of the aircraft and Jared let him.  Jared had never been a "touchy-feely"
kind of guy, even though he was gay, but Tom and these kids had been
so... opposite of that.  They never tried to hide their feelings and had
always been encouraged to demonstrate their affec- tion.  Everything was
out in the open.  No fear or inhibition, letting you know ex- actly how
they felt.  This was taking some getting used to.  Jared would never be as
open as they, but he was beginning to adjust somewhat, to shift gears.
This would be a real shock for Augie, of course.  He'd been on Jared since
they had first met and fell in love to open up and show more of his
feelings.  Jared won- dered what Augie would think of him now.  Now that
with Augie, it was almost too late.  He could feel his grief welling up
inside again and Ricky, super-empath that he was, picked up on it right
away.  He gave Jared a comforting squeeze of the hand, but carefully
avoided eye contact. Ricky knew that Jared had no wish to open up now and
that, just now, Jared's emotional sluices could spring wide open with very
little provocation.

They landed at LAX mid-morning.  The company security detail rented two
Hertz cars, a primary vehicle and a chase.  They drove via circuitous route
to another Hertz office, exchanged vehicles and then on to the Rodrigues
home.  Jared's re- union with Dr. and SRA. Rodrigues was emotional, to say
the least.  Most poign- ant of all was when he introduced Ricky to them.
He could not go on.  He was so overcome by emotion that, momentarily, he
simply could not explain coherently all that had happened over the past
several days; how this young man, Ricky, had come into his life.
Dr. Rodrigues had never seen Jared like this but he assumed that Augie's
terminal condition must be at least part of what was going on.  Once Jared
regained some semblance of his composure, he gave only the sketchiest
outline of what had happened on Ponce de Leon, but sparing nothing of his
own intended role in killing these boys and kidnapping Tom Henderson.
Dr. Rod- rigues simply couldn't believe Jared would be part of something
like that.

"In God's name, Jared, Why?"

"For money, Dr. Rodrigues.  For Augie's life.  For my life."

Jared could not continue...

Ricky jumped to Jared's defense.  "He saved us, Dr. Rodrigues.  When push
came to shove, he couldn't do it. He couldn't hurt us.  He saved all of us.
If he hadn't been there we'd all be dead now.  The only reason we got out
alive is because Ja- red came and rescued us."

SRA. Rodrigues spoke up.  "I'm sure we'll have time to sort all this out
later.  But Augie is waiting.  I told him you were coming Jared.  He's so
anxious to see you again."

"OK, SRA. Rodrigues, let's go... and don't worry.  By the time we're with
Augie, I'll be OK.  I promise I won't let him see me like this."

"I only wish you would, Jared.  Augie knows he is dying.  You have no right
to be brave with him.  You owe it to each other to share you passion and
your grief.  There's not much time and it's all you have left together now.
Don't throw away this chance to share your feelings with him.  You know
that's what he's wanted from you all along.  I don't know what has happened
to you out there Jared, but I think it is something beautiful.  I can see
you're in a lot of pain.  But now at least its on the outside, not all
bottled up in your stomach.  That is so wrong, my son.  Go to Augie and cry
with him."

And that is exactly what Jared did.  For the better part of an hour that is
all they did, together.  And then, once he'd finally regained some
semblance of control over himself, Jared introduced Ricky to Augie.  This
opened Jared up all over again.  Jared sat on Augie's death bed with Ricky
alongside.  Now Jared was to- gether in one place, at one time, with the
two people he loved most in the world.  It was a bittersweet moment, but
one he would remember the rest of his life.  He doubted he would ever
approach such an emotional zenith ever again.

As it happened, the end never came for Augie.  After a briefing from Ricky,
Tom had Wexler's "snitches" checked out the particulars of Augie's disease
and sur- mised that company genetic research resources could be brought to
bear first to stabilize Augie's condition and then to save his life.

Tom had been nursing a hunch since Jared's second miraculous recovery,
follow- ing his transfusion from Alex after taking that enemy bullet that
had been meant for Jack.  This second recovery had been even more
remarkable than his first.  Moreover, Jared had reported experiencing more
than a threefold increase in his own already considerable strength, agility
and endurance.  This could only be ac- counted for by the transfusions.
When Jared and Ricky had first returned from East LA to Antonics in
Sunnyvale, Tom had requested that Jared submit to a thor- ough physical
examination by company doctors and physiologists.  Tissue scrap- ings and
urine samples were taken and blood was drawn.  In due course, Tom's
suspicions were confirmed.  Certain aspects of the boys' genetics seemed to
have been transferred to Jared by the transfusion.  This appeared to be
permanent.  For lack of pre-transfusion samples, researchers could not be
absolutely certain, but it appeared that Jared's own genetic structure had
been subtly altered.  Tom asked Jared to accept additional transfusions
from Jack and Alex which he was willing to do as long as this would
contribute to research which could lead to saving Au- gie's life.  But
Jared continued to gain strength to a point that he was arguably, aside
from the four boys, among the strongest human beings alive.

It was Jared who first raised the question.  "Tom, if this keeps up, won't
my mus- cles actually become `too strong?'"

Tom replied, "Too strong?  How do you mean?"

"Well, Tom, as you don't need me to tell you, muscle tissue, especially
mine after these transfusions, is more `dynamic' than bone or tendon.  What
you're doing to me with these transfusions has got to be having more of an
effect on my muscles than on my bone and tendon... right?  So, unless my
bone and tendon are changing in the same way and at the same rate as my
muscle tissue, won't I reach a point where muscle loading could go beyond
the shear and tensile strength of the bone and tendon?  Didn't you and
Vanderhaeghe go to a lot of trouble during the boys' gestation to enhance
their skeletal development to avoid exactly this problem?"

"Hey, wait, Jared.  You may be right!  I'll need to take bone and tendon
samples from you and run a series of cat scans to know for sure.
Meanwhile, keep this situation in mind when you work out, especially with
heavy weights or do any- thing that calls for high muscle loading."

Jared's suspicion proved correct.  The transfusions had little perceivable
affect whatever on Jared's bone or tendon.  But more important, it was
clear that Jared's muscle tissue had been profoundly enhanced although not
to the point where Ja- red's skeletal structure would be in any serious
jeopardy.  There would be time enough later for Tom to explore the results
of a marrow transplant from Jack to Jared.  Maybe Jared's bone could
assimilate the boy's genetic traits from that.  But Jared might take some
convincing.  Tom's research had already achieved its main objective.  The
evidence was strong that blood transfusions from one of the boys might well
save Augie's life.  Beyond that, Jared was tiring of his role as human
`guinea pig.'  He was not interested in becoming a super-man.  Tom would
fight that battle later, not now.  He felt that eventually, with Jared's
and who knew, maybe Augie's cooperation, he could solve the bone and tendon
"glitch."  If he could identify and eventually synthesize the "agent" or
"agents" in the boys' bodies responsible for transfer of aspects of their
marvelous genetics to ordinary human beings, the implications for the human
species as a whole would be stag- gering.  Tom's four boys would not in
that event be merely "super-men," but rather "proto-types," not only for
future generations, but conceivably for every human being alive today!
Years of research would lie ahead but, in time, these four lives could have
more impact upon humanity as a whole than anyone else born in the second
millennium.  Yes, Tom decided, Jared and Augie would be his preliminary
link between the boys' super-genentics and the rest of humanity.  Al-
though they would not likely ever attain the phenomenal strength and
agility of the boys, Tom refused to rule out this possibility altogether.
Only time and more research would tell.  The first order of business was to
get Augie well!

Tom mandated a regimen of transfusions from Ricky to Augie.  He and Augie
were a match.  Stabilization came almost immediately.  Within months, Tom
had hit upon a cure.  Augie's life was saved and by now Tom's hold on the
loyalties of both Jared and Augie was as rock solid as his passionate
loyalty to both of them.

This also further solidified the bond among Ricky and Jared and now Augie.
By this time, Ricky had developed a special, although not sexual,
relationship with Augie.  (Augie would have been horrified at sex with
anyone under age and, al- though he might not have been as squeamish as
Jared at the prospect of sex with a nineteen year old, he was,
nevertheless, very reticent about it.  Not to mention, he knew very well
how Jared felt and, besides, he felt an obligation to be "faithful" to
Jared.  So sex for Augie with anyone other than Jared was out of the
question.)  Despite the difference in their ages, the man and boy were so
much alike in so many ways.  Although their respective relationships with
Jared were somewhat different, they DID have "their" Jared in common
between them.  They were both so deeply in love with Jared... in love with
everything about him, including his foibles.  Often, Ricky and Augie would
exchange knowing glances over some in- side joke, usually about their
beloved, somewhat eccentric, Jared, that only the two of them could ever
know or understand.  But their regard for each other went beyond just
Jared.  It was Ricky's blood that had saved Augie's life!  And they were
both so open and affectionate that it was inevitable that they would grow
emotionally closer to each other than either was to the relatively
withdrawn, less demonstrative, Jared.

Once, though, after Augie had begun to regain his strength, Ricky had been
coaching him with his re-hab exercise program.  On his way to the workout
area, Augie passed by the living quarters where the four super-boys were
billeted to- gether.  Rick and Augie had arranged to rendezvous here before
Augie's workout.  Augie knocked on the door and it was Ricky who opened it.
He was wearing sweat pants, but he was stripped to the waist.  Augie had
never seen any of the boys this way before.  They had all visited his
sickbed and he had seen them many times during the early stages of his
recuperation.  But the dress code at company headquarters while casual, was
a bit more "business-like" than on Ponce de Leon, especially for the boys.

So this was Augie's very first eye full of the any of the boys' muscular
develop- ment other than through discreet, loose-fitting street clothes or
sweat gear.  Ricky was a real piece of work.  He and his three young
friends had continued their physical conditioning program at corporate
headquarters, including strength training with obscenely heavy weights.
His upper body was breath taking.  Augie had a superb physique, himself,
but he was a mature adult.  This young man had the most incredible muscle
tone Augie had ever seen.  This was not the ponderous over-development of
some steroid-pumped pro-body builder.  Ricky's physique was perfect,
symmetrical, a sublime work of art!  His cute boyish features crowned the
most perfectly sculpted male body Augie had ever seen, and Augie considered
himself a connoisseur of the male human form.  The neck muscles were
incredible for a teen... incredible period!  The delts, traps, lats, pecs;
all in- credibly massive on such a young frame.  And the abs... ripped to
shreds!  Every- thing in ideal proportion, not grotesque.  The muscle
separation was stunning.  What was this boy's body fat count, anyway!
Three...  four percent?  But to Au- gie, the most amazing aspect of Ricky's
muscles was their obvious hardness.  To Augie's expert eye, this translated
as "muscle density."  He'd never seen anything like it!  Ricky, right away
detecting Augie's critical eye, responded with a playful, boyish grin.
Augie's heart skipped a beat as he swallowed hard.  He felt burning hot
fluid suddenly injected into his stomach.

By this time, Ricky had developed a deep, loving affection for Augie and
this man's frank admiration of his body was a real turnon.  Ricky invited
Augie into the boys' apartment.  The other three boys were out so it was
just the two of them.  "I'll only be a minute, Augie.  Just let me pull on
my sweatshirt and I'll be ready to go."

Augie replied, "Ricky, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but
I've never seen any of you boys with your shirts off.  I know Jared has,
but you know him, he never tells me anything.  I mean, I've known about
your phenomenal strength and physical agility, but he just never told me
anything about what you look like with your shirt off.  Even if he had,
there's nothing he could have said that would have prepared me.  I'm in
shock."

"Gee, thanks Augie!  It really makes me feel good when a fine dude like you
gets into my muscles.  I gotta level with you, Augie, it turns me on to
look at you, too!  I always look forward to working with you on your rehab
workouts.  My favorite part of the day!  Your progress has been so
awesome!"

Augie should have picked up on Ricky's sexual innuendo, but he was too
focused on his body to catch it.  "Ricky, I would really appreciate it if
you'd just let me feel your bicep.  I just can't get over your muscle
density.  That's as impressive to me as your huge mass."

"Sure, Augie, feel this!"  Ricky pumped up his right bicep,
enthusiastically serv- ing it up for the man as it erupted into
eye-popping, knotted, thick boy-sinew.  Augie squeezed the steel hard
muscle.  The belly of the bicep was so unbelievably well defined, so deep
and wide.  "Augie, feel me all over, man!  It really drives me wild when a
hot guy like you grooves on me like this.  Ricky turned around and backed
into Augie, executing a super-boy double bicep and rolling his awe- some
back muscles as he pressed into him.  Augie responded as any red-blooded
American (or Argentine) faggot would.  His cock sprang immediately to
attention inside his sweat pants.  Augie folded his arms around the willing
boy's torso, de- vouring with his hands the seething marble-hard
muscularity of this incredibly beautiful super-youth.  And then, suddenly,
he broke free from his raging lust, re- leasing his hold of the boy and
jumping back from him, scalded by white hot shame and guilt.

"Oh, God, Ricky!  No!  I'm so sorry!  I didn't mean for THIS to happen!"

Ricky spun around, brutally wrenched in an instant from the promise of
sweet bliss to bitter disappointment and non fulfillment.  "Aw, Augie, not
you too!  Please don't pull away from me.  I want you as bad as I've wanted
Jared all these months.  Please!  Don't you shut me out, too!"

"No, Rick.  This can't happen.  I was wrong to take advantage of you.  I
love you as much as Jared does.  But I can't do this.  Neither of us can.
We just can't!

Augie turned away in remorse.

Ricky took Augie's face in his hands looking into his dark brown eyes.
"Augie, you and Jared are both so hung up about me.  I just wish to God the
both of you would just let go and let me in.  Why does this have to be such
a big deal?  I want you so bad and I know you want me.  Why can't we just
give ourselves to each other if that's what we both want?"

"Because, Ricky, I could never look any of you in the face again if I let
this hap- pen...  you, the other boys, Tom.  And Jared...  if you and I did
this, we might both loose him forever.  No matter what you think, this is
not right.  And one day you'd hate me if I took advantage of you like this
now, just because the law says you're legal, barely, no matter how bad you
think you want it now."

"Augie, I could NEVER hate you.  Not if my life depended on it!  I love
you...  and I love Jared so much it hurts.  I just wish you and Jared could
ACCEPT that and let's just go with it!"

Ricky looked down at the floor in frustration.  Almost!  He'd almost broken
through with Augie.  But once again, these strange moralistic hang-ups,
just like Jared's, had gotten in his way!  Oh well...  he'd made more
headway with Augie than he ever had with Jared.  Maybe not today, but one
day he'd smash down their inhibitions and have these two strange warriors
who'd stolen his heart... and he'd give himself freely, lovingly, with
exuberance and passion to both of them.  He thought to himself; "Man!  When
that day comes, it's gonna be so... awesome!"

"Ricky, look, I don't believe I'm up for this workout right now.  I think I
need to go back to my quarters and lie down."

"Oh no you don't, Augie!  You're coming with me to the workout area and
we're gonna pump some iron!  You're not gonna put me off on this, too.
Working with you on this rehab means as much to me as it does to you and
I'm damned if you're gonna deprive me of it.  I can only stand so much
disappointment in one day.  By God, I'm gonna watch you pump up those hot
muscles of yours and break a sweat for me.  Now let me get my sweatshirt on
and we're outta here."

Tom was nearly ready to move into the next phase of Project Hercules.  Now
that he was surrounded by good people, he was planning in earnest for that
policy and strategy conference he'd been wanting since their safe return
from Ponce de Leon to corporate headquarters.  Introduction of the
Rodrigues family into the general milieu had complicated things somewhat.
Dr. and SRA. Rodrigues had refused to abandon the medical practice in East
LA until Tom funded construction of a free clinic to serve the unemployed
and working poor in Dr. Rodrigues' neighborhood.  With the clinic in place,
there was no longer any valid basis of refusal and Dr. and SRA. Rodrigues
joined Jared and Augostino at Antonics in Sunnyvale.  The other Rodrigues
children would continue their education at the local Catholic schools in
Sunnyvale, under the watchful aegis of corporate security.  This removed a
major concern from Tom's shoulders.

The presence of the Rodrigues on the Antonics campus was a particular boon
to the boys.  In addition to their continued private tutoring and strenuous
exercise, by means of which they continued to strengthen and grow in
agility and power, now their minds were being cultivated with the very same
culture and values which had first awakened Jared's once dead soul.  It is
perhaps reasonable to wonder how Jared might have reacted on Ponce de Leon
in similar circumstances had he not been under the influence of the
Rodrigues.  Without that leavening and per- spective, who knows were would
his moral rudder might have steered him?

The boys, young, open and exuberant as they were, devoured everything the
Rod- rigues had to offer with the same ravenous hunger that they devoured
the nour- ishment that fed their awesome muscles.  Their positive response
to Dr. and SRA.  Rodrigues' influence was a particular source of
satisfaction to Jared.  In his youth Jared had been a virtual stranger to
classical music and culture.  He was delighted to see the boys exposed so
early to these profound ideas and concepts that had come to mean so much to
him.  Jared felt it was at least as important to cultivate their
sensitivity and love of beauty as it was to toughen and strengthen their
bod- ies.

In addition to weight lifting and other physical training and
super-athletic activi- ties which built their strength and agility, Tom and
Augie taught the boys every- thing they knew about martial arts and the
other combat skills they'd learned from their tour of duty with the Seals.
They even managed to take the boys on outings to islands offshore where the
boys were subjected to training and tests of endur- ance that would have
killed ordinary men.  This was the kind of stress it took to push the boys
to expand their phenomenal limits.  Augie was the softer of the two, of
course, but Jared was ruthless and near demonic in the tests of skill,
strength and endurance he would devise for the boys.  He had developed a
sensitivity and finesse which enabled him to discern just how far to push
the boys and when it was time to ease off.  The boys were passionately
devoted to both Jared and Au- gie.  When they wanted to cry, it was usually
to Augie they ran, except for Ricky.  He could melt Jared in a way the
other boys never could, so he had the luxury of confiding in either man.

They were very quickly maturing into strong, brilliant, sophisticated but
still, truly gentle souls.  Very soon, Tom would be ready to present the
world with his small "section" of super heroes.

One year to the day after their escape from Ponce de Leon, Tom called his
long- awaited Project Hercules staff planning and strategy conference .  He
had all the major players assembled in the Antonics board room: Nathan
Wexler, Eric, Alex, Ricky and Jack, Jared, Augie and Dr. Rodrigues.
Although Tom, Wexler and Ja- red had been fleshing out the future of
Project Hercules for a year, it was not until now that they were ready to
implement.  Tom rose to address the group.  "One year ago today, Jared, the
boys and I made good our escape from Ponce de Leon.  On the day we were
attacked, Dr. Vanderhaeghe, founder of Antonics and creator of this project
was senselessly murdered by evil, venal men.  We have in the in- terim,
licked our wounds and consolidated our strength.  We are deeply honored
that, since our safe return, Dr. Rodrigues and his son Augostino have
joined our ranks.  Now we are ready to go to war.  In the first stage, we
will return in force to Ponce de Leon to reclaim our property.  Under
Jared's and Augie's guidance, the boys will continue their education and
training there.  Very soon, they will be ready to deploy, in secret to
strike terror in the hearts of terrorists and murderers around the world.
We will not seek fame, power or profit.  We will defend the weak and fight
for justice.  These fine young men will be our weapons.  They are fit,
strong and fearless, but most of all, they are tender hearted.  They can
feel pain.  Not only their own but that of others.  I cannot think of a
better way to honor Dr. Vanderhaeghe's legacy, nor can I think of a more
fitting application of the fruit of his ground breaking research in the
field of bioengineering and genetic research, as manifest in these four
magnificent young men."

"Meanwhile, I will continue to lead our research at company headquarters.
Thanks to the pioneering work of Dr. Vanderhaeghe, and to some
serendipitous discoveries in the meantime, I am firmly convinced that we
are on the verge of discoveries in genetic engineering which will alter
human physiology and human history.  This will necessitate my separation
from the boys for long periods which pains me deeply.  But I will make
occasional visits to Ponce de Leon Island, as Doctor Vanderhaeghe did and I
know in the mean time that the boys will be in the eminently capable hands
of Jared and Augie."

This had been inevitable since Dr. Vanderhaeghe had been killed.  It had
been only a matter of time before Tom's day-to-day, hour-by-hour contact
with the boys would be over forever.  But the boys were not really lost to
him.  He would visit Ponce de Leon as often as he could and, now that the
boys were older and could maintain the discretion so essential to Project
Hercules, they would return from Ponce de Leon to corporate HQ two or three
times a year.

There was no dissent, of course.  This was, after all, not a democracy.
But, truly, Tom's sentiments would have been as easily spoken by anyone in
the room.  Providence had brought these like-minded men together.  Tom had
never been a man of either faith or superstition.  But neither was he a
pig-headed fool.  He could not imagine a random series of coincidences that
could have led to the events that had brought these particular people
together in this particular time and place, all equally, passionately
committed to fighting, with their lives, if need be, for the greater good
of their fellow human beings.  It had to be destiny and, what the hell, it
was going to be one helluv an interesting ride.  For all of them.