Date: Tue, 29 Nov 2005 17:08:59 +0000
From: Douglas DD DD <thehakaanen@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Boys of Lady Lex Epilogue

Do want to know what happened to our boys as they grew up? Here is their
fate, thirty-three years after the great battles. Why thirty-three years?
Trev the Hawke is why. Here is the fate of our boys after they turned into
men.


The Boys of the Lady Lex
Epilogue
Written By Douglas DD and Benjamin T. C.


The following article appeared in the New York Times on August 8th, 2410:

The Boys of War
By Evan Parker

The occasion was the induction of Trevor Collins into baseball's Hall of
Fame, but there was more than that. The induction was the excuse. It was a
way to get the time off, to get leave, to get schedules changed, and
families packed, and to relive the moments they served thirty-three years
ago in what was one of the great turning points of Earth history.

Thirty-three years ago two great battles took place against what was then
the Kriton Empire. The full-scale Odessa Sector battle was fought by
trained warriors using the most modern of starships and weaponry. It was
the kind of battle that has filled school textbooks for centuries. But it
was the other battle, the Battle of the Wormhole, which filled the hearts
and minds of the people of Earth and the Sol Force Alliance. A battle
fought by junior academy ships and shuttles piloted and crewed by mere
school boys. It was the battle that destroyed the secret weapon the Kritons
had snuck right into Earth's solar system and was the one that broke the
back of the Kriton offensive.

But this isn't the story of the boys of war. It is the story of the men
they became. Many of the boys didn't survive the battle, and their names
are still remembered and honored. The boys who did survive saw their lives
move down many different paths, just as many different paths had led them
to the wormhole.

I was at the wormhole that fateful day. I was a fifteen year old sophomore
on the junior academy ship "Monitor", wondering how I got stuck in the
middle of a full scale battle. I was the weapons officer of a shuttle. My
memories of the battle revolve around being on that shuttle, tasting the
fear in my mouth as we dodged Kriton fighters and the fire of their
starships, trying hard to provide enough cover so our shuttles could get
through the closing wormhole and chase the ship carrying the super weapon
that we had been told would destroy our home.

But this isn't my story either, or the story of the "Monitor". It is the
story of the "Lexington", the ancient Lady Lex crewed by what we saw as the
dregs of society; juvenile delinquents who had nothing to offer on Earth
and even less to offer in space. How wrong we were, as the gallant Lady Lex
held us all off in that year's Junior Olympics. The final baseball game
between them and the "Orion", their bitter rivals, would determine the
championship. That game was never finished. With the score tied at four to
four, war broke out. The Lady Lex had won our grudging admiration, but as
her shuttles shot through the wormhole, with her boys thinking not of
themselves but of saving a home that had not been kind to so many of them,
she won our undying admiration. The boys of the "Lexington" never hesitated
and the result is that the people of Earth are still free and independent.

The fact that only shuttles of the "Lexington" made it through the wormhole
was not by design. It was how things worked out, maybe because they were
the most aggressive boys with a mission. Only a selfless rescue kept a
shuttle from the "Orion" from entering the wormhole. Only our very aware
commander kept us from entering the wormhole when it was obvious the
"Lexington" shuttles had a much better chance of making it, especially if
we provided cover fire. We were school boys using all we'd learned in games
and applying it to reality.

Telling a history lesson isn't the purpose of this article either. The Boys
of the Lady Lex grew up to be men; as did the boys of the "Orion" and the
"Monitor" and the "Gettysburg". The boys who were once known as the Triple
L's (Lady Lex Losers) became winners in battle and in life.

Today, the day after the induction ceremony, men with graying hair, creaky
knees, balky backs, and bulging bellies set foot on the green fields of
ancient Doubleday Field in Cooperstown and played the perfect game in a
perfect setting. The men of the "Orion" and the "Lexington" decided to
replay that game that was stopped by war thirty-three years ago. Sure, many
of them played each other again in subsequent junior Olympics, but the
games were in a different context, with different stakes, with different
feelings.

Today's game wasn't about high stakes. It wasn't touted as the big
rematch. It was attended by friends and family and this reporter. It wasn't
intended to prove a thing. It was simply a way for men to come together and
pay homage not only to themselves as boys, but to their comrades who never
lived to see manhood.

Before, during, and after the game, I wandered the dugouts and the stands,
interviewing the men of the "Orion" and the "Lexington." Thirty-three years
ago the two ships had been huge rivals. The new state-of-the-art academy
starship crewed by the rich and privileged versus the street boys who often
never had a chance, crewing an ancient ship that had been mothballed and
forgotten; an ancient ship that they had rebuilt themselves; an ancient
ship that had given them a sense of pride and accomplishment they had never
known before.

That the reunion was able to happen at all was the work of two men; Trevor
Collins and retired Admiral Stephen Hatcher. Hatcher had been the force
behind the Lady Lex experiment. The Boys of the Lady Lex were his boys. He
was her captain as her boys grew up and became more they ever dreamed of
being. He was her captain as she held off the Kritons at the
wormhole. Along with Admiral Todd Brown, the Chief of SFA Operations, it
was arranged for the men of both ships to be given the time off and the
transportation to be at Cooperstown for Trevor's induction ceremony. Trevor
helped arrange for the use of the field and contacted me to be the person
to write about this special day.

Admiral Brown was a veteran of the Battle of the Wormhole as the Cadet
Executive Officer of the "Orion". He was a senior then and the years
following had been good to him. Cadet CO of the academy ship "Benjamin
Franklin", he enjoyed a quick run up the command ladder after graduation
until he commanded his own ship.  Todd accomplished it all on his own
merits. He is openly gay, once a barrier to advancement in the SFA. But
times change, people change, and one of the lessons learned after
thirty-three years together is that an organization built around the
leadership of the best is much stronger than one built around people whose
egos put themselves ahead of the organization they supposedly lead. Promote
those who walk the walk had been the watchword, and Todd Brown's rising to
the top is the prime example of that.

Stephen Hatcher retired as the Admiral in command of the Junior Academy
program. He made it strong and viable in ways it had never been before. His
shock of thick gray hair and lean body still give an air of authority to
the seventy-five year old retired admiral. His sons both fought in the
battle, Mark on the "Orion" and Jesse on the "Lexington", where he had
volunteered to join the crew of delinquents. Both are playing in the
game. Even his daughter Tina, seated in the sun-bathed stands, played a
role in the battle.

The name of Trevor Collins is, of course, familiar to every baseball fan,
to most sports fans, and even to those who don't know a foul ball from a
field goal. He is known not only because he was perhaps the greatest right
handed pitcher in baseball history, but because he is one of the most
familiar names from the Battle of the Wormhole. He retired with a 363-110
record in 19 years, all with the New York Yankees. He is unquestionably one
of the great icons of Yankee and New York sports history. He was Rookie of
the Year, MVP the year he went 30-3 with 414 strikeouts, and the winner of
eight Cy Young Awards. He won 8 World Championships. He was the author of
five regular season no-hitters, including a perfect game in which he struck
out 24 batters. He walked off the field on his own terms, ignoring a sore,
aging arm, to throw a no-hitter against the Pittsburgh Pirates in the
seventh game of the World Series.

But like so much having to do with these boys who became men, there is more
to Trevor than what is on the surface; more than the statistics and the
championships. There is the make-up of the man. I asked Trevor about that
last game, about where the physical and mental strength came from to claw
his way to the 2-0 no hit win.

"I felt things go in my arm the last month of the season," he said. "It was
more than being tired. But I wanted one more ring, and I was going to make
sure I got it. The mental strength goes back to those early days on the
Lady Lex. I was a boy who was very much wrapped up in himself. But I had
good teachers, in particular Mr. Wolfe, who taught me about being mentally
strong. He taught me how to use stealth and cunning to defeat those who
were stronger than you. He taught me how to use teamwork to defeat those
who individually might be better than you. I never forgot his lessons."

I asked him if he thought the game was a bigger thrill than the Battle of
the Wormhole.

"They were two different things. It's kind of funny in a way. When I fought
at the wormhole I was a twelve year old boy fighting a man's war. When I
won that game I was a forty year old man playing a boy's game."

Yesterday Trevor was inducted into baseball's Hall of Fame, elected on his
first time on the ballot. His wife Ashley, his sons, sixteen year old Tyler
and twelve year old Greg, and his thirteen year old daughter Emily are all
in the stands enjoying the bright sun, the blue sky, the green grass, and
the chance to watch their father play baseball one more time.

Trevor promised not to pitch and will be playing shortstop, hoping his arm
still had the zip to fire the ball across the diamond.

The game started on time, both teams in the uniforms of their old ships,
complete with logos. The sizes might have been bigger than thirty-three
years ago, but nobody seemed to care. The intensity might have been less
than thirty-three years ago, but nobody seemed to care about that
either. The men were just happy to be together in the same place where
their heated rivalry had ended because of the duplicity and deceit of their
leaders. Sure, that game was on Hawking's Planet, and this game was on
Earth. But to the men who were now boys again, a baseball field was a
universal place, with the same green, the same dimensions in the infield,
and the same feel to the grass. Maybe the fences were farther off, the
stands different, the planet light years away from where they had been, but
in essence a baseball field was a universal constant. It was a place where
they could be boys again.

Douglas Daniels threw the first pitch to the man who had been his catcher
back then, the man who had been his roommate back then, the man who was his
partner now, Ben Collins. The umpire barked, "Strike one", and the smiles
could be seen on both sides. David Lee of the "Orion" had challenged
Douglas to a rematch someday, the game to decide the game. Neither had
imagined it would take thirty-three years to play it. Sure they played each
other again, but those games were not THE game, not the game that would
have the memories and the feelings attached to it that this one did.

David and Douglas had once been rivals. Douglas was another volunteer
member of the "Lexington's" crew. He and David had been bitter rivals since
middle school on Earth. But war does strange things. Standing up for one
another in battle changes the heart. They were now on opposite sides of the
field, but now as friends much more than rivals.

It was the kind of rivalry that allowed an insult to be taken as the joke
it was. The kind of rivalry that allowed David to ask if a fastball from
Douglas was his change-up. The kind of rivalry that allowed Ben to tell
David he could see the plate better of he tucked in his belly or for David
to ask if the pops from Ben's aging knees were distant claps of
thunder. But it wasn't the kind of rivalry that kept David from driving a
change-up fastball over the left field fence and then trade friendly
insults with his childhood rival.

"I didn't think you had it in you David," Douglas shouts as David rounds
the bases.

"Neither did I," David says with a good natured grin. These men, these one
time heroes, are boys today, but boys with confidence in who and what they
are, with a maturity that was dumped on them at a young age as they had a
responsibility placed on them that most grown men couldn't have
handled. What was a home run when you've once saved the world?

I went up in the stands and sat next to Stephen Hatcher. The temperature
was eighty, the breeze was non-existent, and the sun was powerful. He was
sitting in the shade of the upper grandstand. His wife Linda, his daughter
Tina, his granddaughter Maria, and his great-grandson, Eric, a restless two
year old were seated in the sun.  I knew of Stephen Hatcher from long
before the game. I knew of him because of the "Lexington".  When I was a
beginning reporter had been gracious enough to grant me an interview. He
told me had had a soft spot for anybody who had been at the Wormhole.

He pointed to his family seated below us, and to his granddaughters seated
behind the "Orion" dugout. They were the daughters of his son Mark, two
sun-kissed preteens, twelve and ten. He had three other grandchildren; a
married granddaughter, and two grandsons who were both cadets on junior
academy ships. They were all at the game, the teens, restless and
independent, sitting where they were away from the adults but could still
make sure they were being seen.

 He has a son playing for each team, two men who were as different as
brothers could be, and who were as close as brothers could be. They had a
bond that was even a step above that of blood and family, a bond forged by
danger mixed with the love of brothers.

Stephen points out that Mark and Jesse were once not close at all; that
their differences meant more than the bond of blood. With a touch of
sadness, he says how it took him thirteen years to learn how to love his
younger son, Jesse, but that once he realized what a marvel he had fathered
he wondered why it took him so long to realize it.

Mark followed his father into a career in space, though he took a somewhat
different path. He is a captain for Trans-Galactic Lines, commanding great
passenger star liners though the vacuum of space, transporting three
thousand trusting passengers in comfort and safety. The position affords
him time to be with both of his loves, space and his family, since his
schedule is six weeks in space and six weeks home.

Jesse, of course, is actor Jesse Hatcher, another known name, a character
actor with a Best Supporting Actor Oscar anchoring his resume. Jesse is
another gay, something Stephen Hatcher had to teach himself to
accept. Perhaps the number of gay boys who fought so valiantly at the
wormhole helped him to see that his son had red blood in him, to see that
he was a boy of courage and heart, to help him cement a reconciliation that
had started even before the battle. Not only did many of the living end up
being gay, so did many of the dead.

Admiral Hatcher is happy and proud that he was able to bring everyone
together on this brilliant day. He is proud of his sons. The love he has
for his blood family and for his "Lexington" family emanates from every
pore of his body.

Our chat is interrupted by the world around us. Someone has gotten a hit
and a cheer goes up. The crowd is sparse, a couple of hundred in a ballpark
that seats a few thousand. But there is an energy in the stands that feeds
off of the game, as the game feeds off of the energy. Our attention went
back to the game as Jesse Hatcher hits a double into the gap and is then
knocked in by Mike Wakeman, bringing a cheer from supporters of both sides.

Watching Jesse amble home, his still slender frame gliding over home plate
brings thoughts to Stephen Hatcher of who wasn't there, not only those lost
at the Wormhole, but those who died after, still young, leaving behind
those who loved them.

Johnny Cooper was one such person. When Johnny died I sat down with Stephen
Hatcher, asking him questions about the relationship he had with his
son-in-law. History books tell part of the story. They tell how he went
from a street thug and rebel to the cadet CO of the Lady Lex. They tell of
how he had the position ripped out from under him, yet was still the true
leader of the Lady Lex cadets as they worked to win the Junior Olympics and
save their ship. The books tell how he and Tina Hatcher commandeered a
shuttle and rescued his brothers and the crew of a disabled Orion
shuttle. They tell of how he went to Marine Officers School, about his rise
through the ranks, of how he led a group of Marines through the jungle of a
newly discovered planet, with as yet unknown dangers, and of how a vicious
attack of the catlike Vargons in the middle of the night wiped out his
perimeter guards. The books tell of how he was sliced open by the sharp
claws of his attackers, but managed to help keep them at bay long enough
for most of his command to escape to safety.

What the books don't tell is how Captain Hatcher treated Johnny Cooper as a
second son. They don't tell how Johnny Cooper helped him to see the love he
had for his son Jesse. They don't tell how Hatcher saw the potential in the
rebellious teenager and used his strengths to make him an appointed leader,
then knocked him down so he could overcome his weaknesses to become a true
leader. They don't tell how the once arrogant Johnny Cooper sat down with
his mentor and humbly asked him for the hand of his daughter Tina,
something not often done today, but something Johnny Cooper did because to
him it was the right thing to do.

The history books write of Johnny Cooper the hero. Stephen Hatcher talks of
Johnny Cooper, the man, who had the family he never had as a boy, who loved
his three children and his wife with all of his heart, who took the
dangerous mission to the surface of an unknown planet, not because he was a
hero, but because it was the right thing to do. Stephen Hatcher loved his
son-in-law as much as anybody in his family.  Johnny's sons were eight and
ten when their father died.  Six years later, they show his same
determination and sense of what is right. They want to follow their father
into space and help continue his legacy.

Another inning starts. It's the third inning. Baseball is a timeless game,
a game that allows thought, allows friendly chatter, and allows people to
just sit and watch. It goes on no matter what you do, and it draws you in
no matter what you're doing.


The game that was never finished, the game that ended as war started, had
Douglas Daniels and David Lee as the pitchers. They were rivals before they
went into space. They disliked each other, and their animosity spread to
their ships until the game was not only for the survival of the "Lexington"
but to show which team of boys was truly a team of men. The two asked no
quarter in that game or in anything else they did.

War and danger have a way of resetting priorities, even for the young. We
all know how David passed up his chance to be a "hero" by rescuing Jesse
Hatcher and letting the "Savoy Special" be the last shuttle through the
closing wormhole. Yet, even though Douglas commanded the shuttle that
fatally hit the attacking Kriton warship, David was as big a hero. He found
his sense of teamwork, he found his realization that he was not the center
of the known universe, he found his heart. The history books have their
heroes, but reality picks the true heroes. David Lee is a true hero, just
like his one-time rival Douglas Daniels is a true hero. Just like all of
the players on the field today are heroes.

The "Lexington" team takes the lead as Andrew Collins doubles to his twin
brother Trevor. There are cheers, and smiles, and high fives. David wants
to finish the inning, but knows he can't. Years away from the game has
taken its toll. He's a businessman now, operating a farm equipment sales
company on a new colony planet, helping to open a primitive planet to
colonization. It is the same planet Johnny Cooper lost his life on six
years before. He tells his teammates he is done and Eddie Christianson
takes over pitching. David leaves to a round of applause and to handshakes
from his teammates and from the rival team. The game to decide the game
that never ended has turned into a baseball picnic of goodwill and
friendship.

David runs out to second base, replacing Rich Zimmer, whose cranky back is
acting up. While he still plays softball and is probably in better shape
than David, his back often acts up, just one more reminder that boyhood has
passed them all long ago. Rich Zimmer is, of course, Senator Rich Zimmer,
the Western United States senator to the Earth Council. He is the
consummate politician, and one can't wonder if he isn't really leaving the
field so David can continue to shine in front of the friends he hasn't seen
in so long.

A walk through the stands brings contact with interested parties. Friends
are there, family members, former crewmates. I stop to chat, to ask
questions, to listen as David's replacement takes his warm-ups. I talk to a
man in his sixties or seventies.  His hair is somewhat disheveled, yet he
sports a neatly trimmed white beard.  His clothes are rumpled, yet there is
an air of authority about him. His piercing gray eyes shine with
intelligence. He politely declines to answer any questions, saying only
that he was a friend of the players and a baseball fan. When I ask him who
had invited him, he smiled and said he had a standing invitation to
everything. A tall, thin black man informs me his name is Brad Storm and
his grandfather was the Chief Engineer on the "Lady Lex". I know he was
referring to Ely Storm, who lost his life at the Wormhole. He said he was
proud and honored to have been invited. A scruffy man with a shaved head
said his name was Spencer and he had been a member of the original Birds of
Prey. I find out he wasn't one of the success stories. He had just been
released from prison a couple of months before.

The game starts up again as I come across Admiral Todd Brown and Chase
Hunter, the retired captain of the "Orion". They introduce me to the
officers around them. One is Kalon Masters, son of the infamous Jake
Masters and current director of the Sol Force Alliance Junior Academy
program.  He was an ensign on the Lady Lex at the Wormhole, and many of the
boys credit him with making them the crackerjack pilots who defeated the
mighty Kritons. Masters is the circle of the Lady Lex closing, bringing her
people back to their beginnings. There is Tim Whitaker, the son of another
famous name, Admiral Peter Whitaker, now captain of the JFSA "Enterprise"
and his partner Matt Benson. Tim is unable to play for the "Orion" because
of a sprained knee sustained playing tennis. The circle closes again, and
when I am introduced to Brian McDowell, the history teacher and fencing
coach on the JFSA "Lexington-C" I realize the influence of the original
Lady Lex continues in many subtle ways.

A new inning begins and I decide to return to the interesting stranger I
had talked to earlier, but he was gone. I didn't see him again. I don't
know who he was, but I would like to imagine he was the mysterious teacher,
Harrison Wolfe, who disappeared the day after Trevor Collins graduated from
the Lady Lex. I have no reason to think that except to satisfy my own
active imagination. I make a mental note to ask the officers what Wolfe
looked like, but they are once again into the game, and I forget to follow
up, somewhat intentionally, perhaps because I want to maintain the air of
mystery that has always been attached to his name.

I sit in the sun for awhile and watch the game unfold. I try to enjoy the
game without thinking. The caliber of play is what one would expect of
middle-aged men who haven't played for a long time, but it doesn't detract
from the enjoyment of the game. However, I am here to think. Thinking is a
big part of my job. As I watch Nipper Collins swat a looping single into
right field, I think of the themes surrounding this reunion game.

Each theme could be an article in itself. The themes of old friendships and
old rivalries; the theme of families, the theme one might not expect of
heroes-the gay theme; the theme of the circle, of so many of the men
returning to the roots that made them the heroes they became; and the theme
of death, of the boys who never became men.

The theme of families intrigues me as a nice Shane Simmons, the "Orion"
center fielder, ends the inning. Families are entwined in the
Wormhole. There is the Hatcher family, the Collins family, the Daniels
family, the Brothers family, who all bring their own connections to the
game.

The brothers of the Brothers family found their way to the Lady Lex by
dealing drugs to their peers, often through their church. Two of them
connect the family theme and the gay theme. Carson and Scottie Brothers are
gay with long time partners. Carson and Scottie own and operate Brothers
Interplanetary Construction. Ian Brothers has a PhD in some obscure area of
physics. He is involved in trying to recreate the Kriton wormholes, an area
of knowledge that was lost when the best minds of Kriton science and their
only existing notes were destroyed by the "Savoy Special" at the
wormhole. Thirty-three years after the Battle of the Wormhole only a
wormhole the size of a pencil has been recreated.

TJ Polaski is in right field. The themes of family, death, and gayness
surround him and I wonder if I am the only one who notices it. His brother
Ray died at the Wormhole and his shuttle took a direct hit from the
Kritons, killing everyone aboard but him. He never returned to space-the
memories were too harsh and too close.

Before the game started there was a moment of silence for those who never
lived to become men, at least physically men. They died in boys' bodies,
but inside they were all men. RJ Polaski, Scott Starr, Gary Banks, Tyler
Young, Greg Wheeler, Travis Tucker, and Jeff Sanders are just some of the
boys who should have been playing on a field of green as men. The silence
is also for the men who died and never had the chance to become old, never
had the chance to sit in the stands and watch a ballgame unfold as they
reminisce about the good old days when their hair wasn't white and their
muscles were strong. After the moment of silence, Andrew Collins played
taps on his trumpet and all were reminded of their own mortality and of
their own good fortune.

 TJ is now a music professor and head hockey coach at Boston University. He
plays right field like a hockey player, and seems almost proud of the
fact. But as I watch him, a fly ball sails over his head, which he runs
down, hitting Douglas Daniel, the relay man, with the accuracy of a
professional.

So many men, so many stories, so many themes, so many ways to think of them
and write about them that I wonder how to put it all in one feature
article. Mike Wakeman is now pitching, his soft left-handed tosses
confusing the "Orion" batters. Mike is a big man, but surprisingly agile
for his size. The gay theme revolves around him. His partner, Ryan
Thumbleton, was his "boyfriend" even before their activities landed them a
berth on the Lady Lex.  After graduating from the Lady Lex he decided to
attend college rather than serve on an academy ship, majoring in
business. He discovered the succulent tastes and flavors of Kriton cooking,
not to mention the foods of other cultures. He is the founder and owner of
the successful Alien Grill restaurant chain. Ryan put his artistic talents
to work and is a very successful starship architect.

Watching them on the field made me wonder about the gay theme, about how
many of those at the Wormhole ended up being gay. Maybe the overall
percentage is no different than for the world as a whole, yet so many of
the key figures fit the theme. The result is that, over the ensuing years,
the citizens of Earth began to realize that their fellow gay citizens
weren't a class lower on the social scale. Yes, homosexuals have had legal
rights for years, but it was only after so many of our heroes, so many of
the boys who saved the world ended up being gay, that we as citizens had no
choice but to either disown our heroes or to give them more than equal
rights. We wisely chose the latter, and now gays are truly looked upon as
social equals.

Family and gay swirl around Andrew Collins, a veterinarian specializing in
alien species, perhaps the leading expert on them. His partner is one of
the spectators I chat with during the game. I think of him as he pops up
and is followed by Nipper Daniels. His name is Nathan, but he has always
been known as Nipper. He is a concert violinist, a profession that once
shunned the openly gay because who would buy tickets to listen to a gay
classical performer? The answer to that question is, of course, Nipper
Collins. He is another famous name.

 Nipper's father, retired SFA Doctor Larry Daniels sits in the stands with
his wife Amanda Creevey-Daniels and their daughter Megan. He is proud of
his sons, and you know he would be equally proud even if his sons hadn't
been heroes and famous. He is proud of them as any father would be, because
they are good people, honest people, people who have the ability to know
what is right and to do what is right.

The game moves on, the shadows start to creep across the field. I talk to
more spectators, to more players, to anybody who wants to answer
questions. The temptation is there to spend a lot of time with the family
of Trevor Collins, but there have been too many articles written about them
and him the past few days. This day came about because of Trevor Collins,
but it is not about Trevor Collins.

Then the game captures our attention again. The "Orion" leads 5-3, it is
the bottom of the last inning, there are two outs, and the mythical winner
of the game that was never finished looks like the "Orion". When Douglas
Daniels singles and Trevor Collins singles there is a stirring in the
crowd. It is almost as if everybody knows that this game couldn't end
simply. There is too much history here, too much emotion here, to much
pride to just have a simple one, two, three inning. Even a game that means
nothing still means everything. It is part of the make-up of these men to
have it come out that way.

Ben Collins comes to the plate representing the winning run. I find it
ironic that the end of this game ends up resting with the three men who
were so instrumental in the defeat of the Kritons.

Trevor Collins, the Hall-of-Famer, the sports hero, the most recognizable
famous name on the field was noted for his Birds of Prey. Ian Brothers,
Kyle ???, Dylan ???, Chandler ???, Brian McDowell, Spencer who doesn't want
his last name used, and Trevor are remembered for their role at the
Wormhole. Yet, it was their rescue of Matt Benson that in an indirect way
delayed the Kriton attack, because it allowed the peace talks to progress
longer and allowed Scooter Starr to figure out the secret of the wormholes,
which allowed the junior academy ships to be where they needed to be to
create their heroes.

The "Savoy Special" is at the SFA Museum of Space Exploration at Cape
Kennedy, Florida and the original "Lexington" is in orbit around Saturn's
moon, Titan, as part of the SFA Space History Museum. The ships are legends
now, just like the boys who became men are legends.

Yet the two names most linked with the Wormhole, the two who are at the top
of the list of names in the history books are Ben Collins and Douglas
Daniels. Douglas was the commander of the "Savoy Special" and Ben was the
pilot who preformed a maneuver that is still considered next to
impossible. They are linked with the battle, with each other, and with
Earth history so that their names are almost inseparable.

I remember talking to them as the school year started late because of the
battle and the war. I was waiting for my transportation back to the
"Monitor" and they were staging to be returned to the "Lexington". I was
about to start my junior year and they were about to start as sophomores. I
was prepared to meet two boys who were now heroes and therefore full of
themselves. Instead I met two boys who were instantly likeable, who had the
same worries I did about the late start and the new students, and would
there be new teachers, and what challenges school and space itself would
hold. They were both slated to be senior officers even though they were
underclassmen, but for all I could tell they were just a pair of regular
cadets returning to school. I learned through the years that my first
impression of them was indeed exactly what they were like, a pair of
bright, likeable, classy individuals. Earth couldn't have had a better pair
of heroes, which of course was one of the reasons the meaning of the gay
word changed, for the gay theme revolved around them as well.

Douglas, of course, has made his mark as a space explorer, still a bit of a
hero, still with his name in the news. He was about to become captain of
the newly commissioned "Thomas Jefferson", a ship whose chief designer was
Ryan Thumbleton-another circle closing. The "Thomas Jefferson" was built to
go deeper and faster into space than any starship-the first of a new class
of starships.

Ben had made his mark as well, as the author of best selling science
fiction books. His books are more than sci-fi, however, they are literary
sci-fi, books that add thought and action and intriguing characters and
plot. I have enjoyed more than one evening discussing writing with
Ben. Finding him to make an appointment was never the easiest thing. Ben
and Douglas are still partners just like Mike and Ryan. As Douglas became a
senior SFA officer, Ben was able to travel with him, able to explore space
and see the settings for his exotic stories.

I ask Douglas about his relationship with Ben and how the gay theme
revolves around the Wormhole.

"First of all," he says, "most of the boys at the Wormhole married, have
kids, and are what we still like to call normal. But Ben and I are normal,
too. We have two adopted sons who travel with us now that families can be
accommodated on long journeys of exploration." Their two son, Gary,
fourteen, and Travis, eleven, are among those seated in the stands,
watching with some amusement as their fathers try to look good at a game
they haven't played in so long. "Ben and I have been together for over
thirty years. How many straight couples can say the same thing?"
Statistically, not many, not for any type of couple.

I ask Douglas about some of the revisionist history, saying there was no
bomb going through the wormhole, that the "Shakala" was a spy ship and not
a science ship carrying a weapon of mass destruction. They are the
histories saying mere boys could never have saved the planet, especially
boys tangled up in the gay theme.

Douglas laughs and says anybody can say anything they want as long as they
are willing to ignore the facts. The people of Earth have seen the evidence
and rejected the revisionist writings as strongly as they have embraced
their heroes for three decades.

Ben digs in at the plate, a one strike count on him, his partner, the space
hero, on second, his brother, the Hall of Fame hero, on first, ready to
become the game hero, ready to give his next swing his total effort, ready
to become the hero of the replay of the game that never ended, to bring an
end to a game that has no meaning yet means everything at the same
time. The sparse crowd is cheering; friends, family, maybe even a
mysterious stranger, dotting the stands, invested in a game ready to play
itself out to a finish in the shadows of the summer afternoon. Had they
wanted, the players could have sold tickets, sold out the ballpark, sold
out Yankee Stadium, brought in the television cameras, made the game a
galaxy wide spectacle, made it more than it was intended to be. Maybe this
is why it's so right to play the game three decades later.

Trevor acknowledged it would have been nice to have a crowd there, then
said, "But it's not why we're here. When I was younger I would have wanted
everyone to watch this game, I would have played it for the audience. But
today, we are playing it for ourselves, for each other, and for those of us
who never had the chance to be here. This game is about the `Lady Lex' and
the `Orion' and that's fine with all of us."

So instead of thousands of voices, there are a couple of hundred. Instead
of hearing a concerted roar, one can hear the sounds of a young boy's voice
shouting, "Come on dad! Hit a homer dad!"

Ben Collins looks at the "Orion" pitcher, a smile creasing his face. He has
heard the only voice he needs to hear. The sounds of thousands doesn't
interest him. The sound of the boy shouting encouragement to his dad is all
he needs to hear. The pitch is thrown, it's up in the zone, it's where Ben
loved it when he was young and carefree and his knees popping didn't sound
like crackling thunder, and so it's exactly where he loves it now, as the
boy in his heart springs loose and swings the bat and hears it hit the ball
with a satisfying crack leaving no doubt he got it all as the players in
the dugout and the spectators in the grandstand rise to their feet and
follow the arcing ball, follow the left fielder running to the fence, then
slowing as he realizes pursuit is futile and all he can do is watch the
ball drop over the fence.

Douglas scores and waits, Trevor scores and waits, Ben crosses the plate to
the hugs of his lifelong partner, the hugs of his hero brother, then the
hugs of his teammates, his crewmates, his friend whom he hadn't seen in so
long.

The "Lexington" wins 6-5, but nobody is concerned about the score. Nobody
cares that those once known as the Triple Ls came out on top, because there
are no losers here. They are our heroes, these men who just finished
playing a boys game for the sheer joy of it. These men who will now return
to their lives, knowing they had a bit of closure in those lives. The game
that never ended has ended. What mattered was not who won, but that
somebody won.

I walk on to the field as David hugs his one time rival Douglas. David
tells him to stop by and visit if he is ever near his home planet and that
he hopes that is soon. Douglas looks at David and tells him that the last
time he said "soon" it was thirty-three years before anything came to pass.

The Hatchers are together on the field-all of them. They are a big family,
a happy family. They are a family that can stand on a green baseball
diamond under a blue sky on the planet Earth because of the men in that
family and because of the men around them. They can do it because those men
were at the Wormhole. It was exactly as Trevor put it about his own
career. Then they had been boys fighting a man's war, today they were men
playing a boys game, but with a touch more. They still had the boy in their
heart, still had an unspoiled part of them that could play a game for the
love of the game, for the love of each other.

They were more than heroes and famous names, more than starship captains
and Hall of Fame baseball players and businessmen and teachers and
politicians and scientists and artists...today they were what they always
wanted to remain in their hearts...they were the Boys of the "Orion" and
the Boys of the Lady Lex.


**********************************

Note: for you baseball fans wanting to see Trev's lifetime statistics, drop
us an e-mail and we will send you an Excel spreadsheet page of the Hawke's
career.  Ben and I both wish to thank those who helped us. We each wrote
our own thank you notes, and I was ordered not to read his until after I
wrote mine. So, if they end up duplicating each other, forgive us. It just
means we are doubly grateful to those who helped

 I wish to thank Scooter, who helped with proofreading the early stages of
the story. I wish to thank one of our loyal readers, Richard, who
volunteered to take over proofreading duties mid-way through the story
after Scooter no longer could help. His help in cleaning up our grammar and
syntax was wonderful. It is always a good thing to have a retired teacher
backing one up.

I want to thank my dear friend Mike the Donkey for reading everything ahead
of time, making innumerable suggestions to our plot, watching over our
continuity, and most importantly, for refereeing the inevitable disputes
that arise when two strong headed boys try to write a cohesive story
together.

Thanks also, to all of you who wrote us. Your e-mails were our inspiration,
and when things got rough, or the ideas wouldn't come, Ben and I remembered
you were out there eagerly awaiting our next chapter.

And of course, I want to thank Ben for dragging me into this project. Ben
had started Lady Lex and it bogged down on me. He asked me if I wanted to
help him jump start it and write it along with him. Little did we know we
had given birth to a two year project. Ben, thanks for asking me to take
part in one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life.

Douglas DD


Wow, who would have thought back in early February of 2004 when I first
approached Douglas about writing a story together, that 21 months later we
would be posting the last chapter. I hope that you all enjoyed this
thrilling ride like I have. This was by far one of the most challenging,
yet most rewarding writing projects I have ever done. This is one ride I
will never forget and always will remember with fond memories.

There is so many people I want to give a heart felt thanks too. First I
want to thank All those who we modeled characters after. There are way too
many to name, but you know who you are. Thank you so much for inspiring me
to write something that many people enjoyed.

I like to thank Scooter and Richard. Scooter started us off as our
proofreader and Richard took over the daunting task of proofreading about
halfway through. Thank you for both of your hard and dedication. I know it
was no easy task to do.

A big thank you goes out to Mike the Donkey for so many different
things. But I think the most important thing is that Mike was the
peacekeeper. When he saw problems brewing between Douglas and me over
certain aspects of the story, he would act as a donkey arbitrator and save
the day. Matter of fact, if Mike didn't intervene in the very beginning,
the Lady Lex would have crashed at take off. Thank you so much Mike for
helping Douglas and me through this.

Another thanks goes to Tim the Jester. Oh how I miss you and hope you are
able to come back on again on a regular basis, but you were a great help
Tim. You inspired me and let me bounce ideas off of you. I felt it was so
important to me to bounce ideas off of an impartial person who enjoys the
art of writing as much as I do. Thank you Tim. You helped me so much
through some dark writing times.

I also like to thank you, the reader. If it wasn't for you all, this story
wouldn't have been enjoyed by so many. All of your emails help motivate and
inspire both Douglas and me to continue on this long journey. There were
times when both of us wanted to give up and call it quits, but you, the
reader, gave us the strength we needed to continue on this voyage and see
it to the end. Thank you.

And last, but definitely not least, a big thank you goes out to Douglas my
writing partner. Douglas, I love you so very much. I know it hasn't been an
easy task working with me as a writing partner. But without you, this story
would have never made it past chapter 4. As you know, I started Lady Lex
once before by myself and it just wasn't working out. But then I restarted
it , this time with you and look what we accomplished. I do hope that one
day we will be able to go out together on another adventure in writing.

I'm sure I am missing some people to thank, but please know that a thank
you goes out to everyone who has helped in making The Boys of Lady Lex a
wonderful read. I hope to see you all around again sometime in another
story.

-Benjamin T.C.